How We Pretend To Feel
by cherryredxx
Summary: In every woman's life, there are certain moments that can either make her or break her. A woman will encounter something horrible that she can either use to better herself as a person, or she can let it get to her, eat at her and turn her into a revenge-hungry lunatic who will never move on until her need for vengeance is satisfied. Unfortunately, I went with option two.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story is loosely based on the book, _One For the Money_. A few ideas for scenes are used at the beginning of the story, as well as the gist of the plot, but the story is largely based upon my own ideas. The characters in this story belong to JK Rowling. This story is canon compliant up until the epilogue. Though this first chapter is not exactly a prologue, it is much shorter than the other chapters will be. Finally, special thanks to tumble and fall and Christy with a CH, my wonderful betas, and to Gamma Orionis for the story cover ;). Enjoy!

* * *

In every woman's life, there are certain moments that can either make her or break her. A woman will encounter something horrible that she can either use to better herself as a person, or she can let it get to her, eat at her and turn her into a revenge-hungry lunatic who will never move on until her need for vengeance is satisfied. For me, my moment happened when I was seventeen, and unfortunately, I went with option two. Fresh out of Hogwarts and brimming with a brand new outlook on the Wizarding world, I decided to take a chance on someone who I had previously thought was nothing more than an elitist, pureblooded bigot.

Draco Malfoy, who was the person solely responsible for turning me onto the dark path of revenge, had been the bane of my existence throughout the entire time we were in school together. He tortured me, picked on me, and was generally just a foul git with absolutely no redeemable qualities. Well, he had a few redeemable qualities. He was good looking, charming, and sexy, enough so that he was able to coax me into going out with him as soon as I finished my seventh year of school. We went out for a while, had a few drinks, and shared quite a few laughs. I gave him my virginity, and the next thing I know he disappears. He went on to the Auror Academy, and I didn't hear from him again. I never forgave him for that. For nine years, I did nothing but fantasize and plan how the revenge would finally happen. For nine years, I waited. And then it happened. I finally got my chance.

When I turned twenty-six, I finally got my opportunity to get back at him. I was recently divorced from the Boy-Who-Lived, completely broke, and living in a flat that I could barely afford. Unfortunately for me, I had little-to-no work experience and absolutely no real-life training. I was having a difficult time finding a job, so I did what anyone in trouble would do. I used my familial connections and went to my brother, Ron, for help.

Ron was also an Auror, although he spent the majority of his time in the office rather than in the field like most of the others, due to an injury that he had gotten on his first assignment. I figured he might be able to give me a job as his secretary. He had been talking about the position being open for weeks because his old secretary, Astoria Greengrass, had disappeared without ever giving him notice. When I arrived at his office, however, I saw that the position had already been filled.

I stormed into his office without knocking. "Ron! You hired Parkinson as your new secretary?" I'm sure the squeal in my voice was rather obnoxious, but I was infuriated enough to not really care.

"Gin, I needed a secretary," Ron answered, trying to calm me down with logic. "You never said for sure that you wanted the job. I had to get somebody."

"But – but _Parkinson_?"

My brother shrugged. "Sorry, sis. Maybe I could ask some of the other guys if they need some help."

I sighed, resigned. "No, no, that's all right." I threw myself in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. "Isn't there anything else you can hire me for, Ron? I just need to make enough money so that I don't have to move back in with Mum and Dad."

"Gin, this is the Auror department. Unless you're an Auror or a secretary or you want to go into filing, where you've got to spend all of your time alone in a dark room, there isn't much else for you to do around here."

"But Seamus works here, and he's not any of those things."

"Seamus is a bounty hunter."

"Well, why can't I do that?"

"Because you're a girl who just happens to be my sister, and you would get yourself killed in an instant. Besides, I don't have any openings for that, either. And –"

He was cut off when his new secretary slag abruptly burst into the office, unannounced, while pretending that I wasn't there.

"I've got some bad news," Pansy said, although she didn't appear to be too broken up by it. "Seamus got hurt; says he has to take a leave of absence, effective now." She tossed a file on the desk. "Those are his incomplete cases until he gets back." She turned around and left without so much as another word.

I looked back at Ron, my eyes wide. "I guess you've got an opening after all, don't you?"

"My answer is no, Ginny," he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest with an air of finality.

After staring at my brother for a long moment, my lips turned into a smirk. "You know, I was married to your best friend for six years."

"What's your point?"

I continued to smirk, knowing full well that my marriage to Harry had allowed me to delve into some seriously scandalous rumors about him, many of which his wife would kill him for. "Well, to be frank, dear brother, Harry and I had some issues towards the end of our marriage, as you know. Recently, I found out that the two of you used to frequent a strip bar, and there was this blonde named Scarlett who just had this thing for redheaded men…"

"Fine!" He sighed, his cheeks reddening with every word I said. "Fine. Go ahead. If you get killed, I'm telling Mum you used the Imperius Curse on me."

I should have felt guilty for blackmailing my brother, but some part of my desperation just wouldn't allow me to get to that point. After jumping from my seat, I went around to his side of the desk and pulled him into a hug, not bothering to care if his air circulation was being compromised by my doing so.

Afterwards, I sat back down and picked up the file that Pansy had tossed onto Ron's desk. I began to thumb through it, carelessly glancing at the names as I went along. Most of the cases were pretty straightforward - people who committed petty crimes and got out on bail, but didn't bother to show up for their trials. Some of the crimes were less petty, though, and some of the criminals were a bit more elusive. I was lost in thought, scanning over the names, until I came across the one that I knew would change my life. This was the break that I had been waiting for. This was the empowerment and the control that I had been looking for – searching for – and it all came down to just a few sheets of parchment. My eyes lit up and my heart started to pound against my ribcage as I realized that it was now in my job description to go after none other than…

"Draco Malfoy?" I exclaimed, staring at my brother in disbelief. "I have to apprehend Malfoy?"

Ron stood up immediately. "Oh, no," he said, walking over to me, attempting to steal the file from my hands. "I don't want you looking for Malfoy. He's dangerous, and an Auror, and you've got no experience with this to begin with. I can't let you do that."

I shoved the file under my shirt, knowing that was the one place that Ron would not go searching for it. "Listen to me, Ron. You gave me that file, and it is not my fault that Draco Malfoy's case just happens to be in it. I will find him, you mark my words."

I turned to leave the office as quickly as I could before I lost my nerve, or before he had a chance to talk me out of it, but I was halted by Ron's words.

"He is a murderer, Ginny."

Slowly, I turned back to face my brother. "He killed someone?" I could tell that my face was turning white. It wasn't that I had really high expectations for Malfoy – he had never been an individual with particularly heavy morals – but I never thought him to be a murderer. "Who – who did he kill?"

"Ginny, please reconsider this," he replied earnestly. "Going after him isn't going to lead you to anywhere that you want to go." He was looking at me with his 'big brother' eyes that were supposed to show how much he cared, but once he saw that I was not budging, he sighed. "Theodore Nott, in cold blood. He was apprehended after being stupefied at the scene, but because he had been a clean Auror up until that point, with no priors, and because his mother threw lots of money at the Ministry, he made bail and never came back for his hearing. There's big money on him, Gin, and he's incredibly dangerous."

Theodore Nott was a name I did not expect to hear, and I quickly opened the file to be sure that Ron had his facts straight. After spending a fair amount of time on Malfoy's arm before he entered the Academy, I got to know his crowd of friends rather well. It wasn't as though they were the best lot to associate with, I realized, but some of them were pretty decent people. Theo was among the decent ones. He had a good sense of humor, he was smart, and he was always friendly with me, even when some of the others weren't.

I swallowed hard. "Why would Malfoy kill Theo?"

"I don't know, but I can't let you search for a murderer. Especially not Malfoy. You've got a history with him. He knows you, and he will hurt you."

"No," I retorted firmly. "I'm going after Malfoy, Ron, and nothing is going to get in my way."

Determined, I left the office, clutching the file under my arm with my chin held high. Admittedly, I had no idea what to do first, but I'd be damned before I let Draco Malfoy get away with a crime so heinous. No matter what my relationship with him had entailed in the past, I had to go after him. He needed to be put behind bars, once and for all, but I wasn't going to delude myself into thinking that this had nothing to do with our history. Everything about this case was personal.

All I needed to do was figure out where to begin.


	2. Chapter 2

Thoughts of Draco Malfoy being a cold-blooded killer swarmed through my mind as I Apparated back to my flat. As much as I hated the man after what he did to me, some part of that just didn't sit right. He just did not seem to be the type to murder someone, especially someone who he had been friends with since childhood. But it didn't matter what I thought, and I knew that. My job was not to be an Auror and determine the innocence of criminals who didn't show up for their Ministry hearings. My job was to apprehend them, and that's what I was determined to do, no matter how fiercely the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering about.

I set the file down on my coffee table, spreading out every photograph, every newspaper clipping from The Daily Prophet that pertained to this case, and every piece of parchment. What I needed, first and foremost, was a clue – something that might lead me to Malfoy's whereabouts, or at least to someone who might be able to help me find him. The problem was, I had never done any kind of investigation before, and I hadn't the faintest idea of where to begin.

First, I looked over the Auror report and suspect information and profiling from his arrest.

_Name: Draco Lucius Malfoy_

_Date of Birth: 5 June 1980_

_Hair Colour: Blond_

_Eye Colour: Grey_

_Last Known Residence: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England_

_Known Living Family: Lucius Malfoy (father), Narcissa Malfoy (mother), Andromeda Tonks (aunt), Teddy Lupin (cousin)_

The suspect information was virtually useless; there was nothing that I didn't already know. Questioning Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would be pointless; it was not bloody likely that they'd willingly hand over the whereabouts of their only progeny so that some "Weasley blood traitor rubbish" could turn him into the Aurors. Meeting with Andromeda and Teddy would be a bust, as well. I knew from my relationship with Harry, Teddy Lupin's godfather, that neither of them had any contact with the three living Malfoys whatsoever.

I moved onto the suspect profiling, which had been written by Seamus after talking to the Aurors who were in charge of Draco's case. There wasn't much there, and most of it I already knew, but I figured that it was in my job description to get under Malfoy's skin in order to figure out where he was hiding. I took a few notes on what seemed remotely important, or what might help me to understand him a bit better.

_Malfoy is a resourceful Auror. He is cunning, manipulative, and knows how to stay hidden. He is adept at potion-making, duelling, flying, non-verbal magic, occlumency, transfiguration, and Dark Magic, including all three of the Unforgivable Curses. His vast array of skills is what makes him dangerous, and his propensity for discretion is what makes him difficult to track. He may or may not be in possession of a Harry Potter's invisibility cloak._

Witness statements were next on my reading list. There were three written statements inside the file: Elizabeth Crenshaw and Jonathan Albertson, both tenants in Theo's building, and Marcus Flint, a friend from Hogwarts.

I read through the three pages of witness testimony. Crenshaw and Albertson had both stated that there had been a ruckus in the apartment and that Draco had been there, but neither of them had much else to add to that. I figured that they might still be worth talking to, though, if only to understand Theo's lifestyle a bit better.

And then I looked at the third statement, which was much lengthier and more in-depth. Marcus claimed that an off-duty Draco had come by Theo's apartment in search of Astoria Greengrass. At that, I did an immediate double take. Astoria didn't fit into the picture; she was not listed as one of Theo's known contacts, nor was she mentioned in either of the other two witness statements. I also knew, from my experience with the others at Hogwarts, that Theo and Astoria barely knew each other. Their only connection with one another was having been sorted into Slytherin House. After adding that to the fact that she was currently a missing person, I had myself a lead. I just needed to find out what Astoria was doing with Theo and Marcus, and more importantly, why Draco was trying to find her.

Even I had to admit that capturing an elusive, dangerous, and highly skilled criminal - who may or may not have somehow gotten hold of Harry's invisibility cloak - on my own merits and lack of experience seemed highly improbable. But I had two skills up my sleeve that I knew would help me: being female, and being a female willing to get absolutely pissed around a bunch of drunken men who could possibly give me the information that I needed. From experience, I knew that there was a bar in Diagon Alley that many people in Draco's old crowd frequented in the evenings, which at the very least gave me a location to start with. I knew I needed to talk to Marcus Flint about that night, and I also needed to talk to Daphne Greengrass, Astoria's older sister. If nothing else, she may have been able to clue me in on the younger girl's whereabouts.

So that was it; I had a small list of people to talk to and possible locations where they could be found.

I glanced at my watch. It wasn't even four o'clock, which was far too early to start tracking down Marcus and Daphne at the bar. That only left me with two options: Elizabeth Crenshaw and Jonathan Albertson.

* * *

Theodore's flat was in small apartment building with only six units, and was located just outside of Diagon Alley. Two – or three if one were to include Theo's – of the units were unoccupied, and one tenant had been away on holiday during the week that Theo was killed. The other two were, of course, on my witness list.

Elizabeth Crenshaw's flat was directly across the hall from Theo's, so I decided to start with her. It only took a minute for her to come to the door after I knocked, and when I first saw her, I had to fight to keep my mouth from dropping. Her file said she was sixty-three, but her dress and her appearance just screamed mid-life crisis. Her hair was nearly as blonde as Draco's, but it had obviously been bleached, as her grey roots had begun showing rather tastelessly. She had beautiful green eyes, and her face was streaked and aged with wrinkles. The worst part was her choice in apparel, however. Seeing a heavy-set woman in her sixties wearing a skimpy yellow top with an exposed midriff was not exactly what I had been hoping to see that day. I also couldn't help but notice the look of disappointment on her face when she saw me. I wondered briefly if she had been expected a man to be on her doorstep.

I kept my composure as best I could and smiled at Mrs Crenshaw. "Hello, ma'am," I began as professionally as possible. "My name is Ginny, and I work for the Auror Department."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "How can I help you then, Miss Ginny?" She wasn't unfriendly, _exactly,_ but her body language suggested that she didn't really have much desire to speak with me, much less cooperate with me.

"Well, I'm here because you gave your statement the night Theodore Nott was killed in his flat."

Elizabeth did not seem surprised by this. "I already told them what I saw, and I don't have anything else to add, but I suppose you can come on in if you'd like."

With a smile, I entered her flat. It was a studio set up, and it was very small, but the decorum was surprisingly modern and posh. All of her furnishings were in neutral earth tones, and everything was perfectly tidy. There were several photographs of her on the wall with a man, obviously from when she was much younger. The man, I assumed, was her late husband. I half-expected her to own half a dozen or so cats, but there were none. She obviously lived alone and probably had for quite some time.

She welcomed me to take a seat on her beige leather sofa, and I accepted. "Mrs Crenshaw," I began, anxious to keep the interview brief, "according to your Aurors' report, you didn't see much that night."

"No, I didn't," she responded grimly. "I heard a bit of commotion coming from his unit at around six in the evening, and the next thing I knew there was a woman screaming."

"Did you know the woman?" I asked, deciding that discovering any information about Theo's relationship with the woman I assumed to be Astoria would be useful. "Had you ever seen her with Theodore before?"

She shook her head. "Theo was a quiet lad. Before that night, I can't recall ever seeing any women over there."

I nodded. "What about other people?"

"Well, Marcus seemed to be on fairly good terms with Theo and the blond, Malfoy. He would come around occasionally." She sighed as a glazed look crossed her features. "That Malfoy sure is something – a real charmer."

In my mind, I was rolling my eyes. It was just like Malfoy to put on his charm for the old lady across the hall. "So, you've met Draco Malfoy before?" I asked, wanting to get to the meat of the conversation quickly. "He and Theo were friends?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Tell me more about those two, then. Draco and Theo."

Elizabeth looked a little confused at this. "I'm not sure what to tell you, dear. I used to see Draco coming and going at all hours of the night. He used to always say hello to me, and he even paid my son thirty galleons to help him move into his new place."

I raised an eyebrow. There was some information that wasn't in his file. "Oh, he moved recently?"

"Yes, dear, to the apartment complex in Wiltshire, about two miles from Malfoy Manor."

I offered my hand to Mrs Crenshaw. "Thank you very much. You've been a big help."

* * *

I felt pretty good about myself after that. I was one step ahead of Seamus in my investigation; I had discovered something, all on my own merits, which brought me one step closer to finding Draco Malfoy and bringing him into custody.

I Apparated to Wiltshire and got myself as close to Malfoy Manor as I could - which was not very close, considering I had no clearance to Apparate onto the Malfoys' property. I went the rest of the way on foot because I wasn't entirely sure where the apartment complex was located, and also because I needed a bit of time to think. It was all happening so fast, and I needed to decide what I was going to do _if_ Malfoy was home.

The chances of Draco lounging about in his flat seemed to be slim to none in my mind, but I supposed I didn't really know enough about him anymore to be making such assumptions. For all I knew, he could have been hiding in plain sight for the entire month since he had skipped out on bail, and everyone else had just been too incompetent to think of what I had. It seemed strange, though, that I was the only one who had been able to decipher any sort of lead in this case. It all just seemed too easy.

When I finally arrived at the Wiltshire Estates Apartment Complex, my legs were killing me. I was completely out of shape and had just walked for almost two miles. If Mrs Crenshaw had taken me down an empty lead, I knew she and I would have had to exchange some sharp words. I was bent over, clutching my stomach in order to regain my breath and composure, when I saw someone walk past me out of the corner of my eye. It took me a second to realize who was there, but once I got a good look at him, I knew immediately. He had a face I'd never forget.

Gregory Goyle – Draco Malfoy's crony and moron extraordinaire. Considering the fact that Goyle had very few friends in the world, due in large part to the fact that he couldn't carry on a multisyllabic conversation, I knew that Malfoy had to have been holed up in his flat, or at least that he would be returning to it shortly. The larger man was carrying a large parcel that was obviously for Draco.

With as much stealth as I could manage, I followed Goyle up the stairs and onto the third floor. The brute made little fanfare about visiting Draco and simply entered the flat, only to exit wordlessly a few minutes later.

I waited until I was sure Goyle had left the building entirely before I emerged from the shadows. I tousled my hair and adjusted my clothing. The thought of looking anything less than perfect for the moment that I saw Draco Malfoy again was one that I was unwilling to entertain. When I was satisfied, I stood in front of the door and gave two swift and concise knocks.

From my position outside the door, I could hear shuffling inside. The noise got closer and louder until the door finally opened and I was face-to-face with the object of my affections, frustrations, desires, and other assorted emotions for the last nine years.

And there he was, looking even more perfect than I could remember him. His platinum blond hair was hanging gently in front of his eyes, and he looked much leaner and more muscular than the last time I'd seen him. The only flaw on his face was a fading scar near his left eye, which was enough to make him look much harder and more rugged than he'd ever looked previously. He had an eyebrow raised in questioning and he was looking at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to make the first remark. Typical.

"Uhm, I was just wondering if you could tell me where the Smiths live," I said, trying not to blush and to keep the nervousness from my voice. "Because somebody told me that they lived in this building, but they didn't tell me which unit." Being so close to him after all these years was petrifying, despite the fact that I had imagined it a thousand different ways. I could barely contain the quiver in my voice, and I desperately hoped that he was too irritated at being bothered to notice.

"I'm new here, so I don't know all of the tenants just yet. Sorry," he added, almost as an afterthought - although he did not really seem to be particularly apologetic - before going to shut the door in my face.

Quickly, I placed a hand in the way of the door. "It's really important that I find Mrs Smith."

"And that's really not my problem." He looked at me for a long moment, squinting his eyes slightly. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't give you my name." I shifted slightly beneath his gaze.

Draco continued to look at me for a long time, analysing my every feature as though he were looking for something specific, and I fought the urge to fidget. His scrutinizing eyes were as intimidating as ever. Then a look of realisation crossed over his features. "Bloody fucking hell, Weasley. What do you want?"

My face reddened significantly at his identification. I opened my mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. "You skipped out on bail, Malfoy!" I blurted. "I'm here to bring you into custody, so why don't you just come with me and, uh, let's not make a fuss about it." I knew it was silly to have been so blunt with him, but after it came out, there wasn't much I could do. I tried to look as stern as possible in the hopes that Draco might find me slightly intimidating. He didn't, at all.

His features briefly transformed into a look of amusement before he suddenly burst into laughter. I stood there, arms crossed over my chest with my foot tapping against the floor, unsure of what Malfoy had found to be so damned funny, though I couldn't help but think to myself how pleasant it was to see such jovial expressions on his face and hear such a nice sound coming from him. He was generally so callous and serious about everything.

"Oh, Weasley, I've got to admit that I needed that laugh," Draco said after a moment. "But if you think I'd go into custody willingly, then you're more insane than I remember."

"You killed a man, Draco! In cold blood!"

"Do you know what would happen to me if I went to prison, Weasley?" he asked, his voice suddenly void of all amusement. "I'm an Auror _and_ a Malfoy. I'd be killed in a week or less, and I'd die of syphilis before letting you collect the bail bond. No fucking way."

He turned around and entered his flat, and I followed him closely behind. I watched as he began to gather his things into a large satchel. "Going somewhere?"

"Now that you know where I live, hell yeah I'm going somewhere."

I followed him as he continued to collect his essentials – his cloak, his wand, and a small knapsack. "I'm not going to let you get away with this, you know," I continued, shadowing him at an almost indiscernible distance. "Theo was a decent guy, and he didn't deserve to be killed by the likes of you."

"Give me a break, Weasley."

"I'm serious!" I shrieked. "I'll admit that there was a time when I thought you might be redeemable, but you're not. You haven't changed at all, Draco! Not a lick!"

He stopped, turning towards me at once, causing me to jump in surprise at his proximity and the favourable way in which my body reacted to his closeness. His eyes wandered over my body, piercing through me with a practiced intensity. I felt my entire body shudder, and I knew then that the feelings I had been harbouring for him had not diminished in the slightest throughout the years.

His lips began inching closer and closer to mine. "You know, I do like the way you've done your hair, though. It's curly." He took a few more steps in my direction until he was standing directly in front of me. He reached out and twirled a tendril of hair around his long, delicate finger. "It's sexy, Red."

I felt my heart bang against my ribcage and my breathing go heavy. I hadn't been this close to Draco since I was just a kid, and I was ashamed that he still had such powers of persuasion over me, but at that moment I didn't care. All I cared about was his nearness to me and the rapid rise and fall of my chest and the way his breath felt on my cheek and the way he smelled…

It was then that I realized what he was doing.

I placed both of my hands flat against his chest and pushed him away, hard.

"Come on, Red," he purred, inching closer to me again. "You know you've got no chance in hell at turning me in to the Aurors, so why are you going after me? Is this still because I shagged you and then went off to the Academy without telling you? Is this your way of getting back at me?"

I narrowed my eyes. "This is about money, Malfoy," I hissed, even though the pounding in my chest was telling quite a different story. "I don't care about you."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at me. "Red, this is a joke. I'm bigger than you, stronger than you, and much craftier, not to mention much more skilful with a wand." He smirked. "One kind of wand, anyway."

It took me a minute, but I finally got the insinuation. "You're a pig."

He chuckled softly before running a gentle hand down my cheek. "I've got to be off now, lovely."

And then he Apparated away. I had no way of stopping him, and I had no idea of how to find him again. When Ron found out that I had Malfoy in my grasp and I let him get away, that would be the end of my bounty hunting career.

* * *

Feeling resigned and ridiculous, I Apparated back to the Ministry, trudging my way back to Ron's office. I had fully anticipated that Ron would demand for me to immediately return all of my case files and then subsequently throw me out of the office onto my arse, but my little meeting with Malfoy put a few things into perspective for me. It was pretty obvious that I was not going to be able to catch him on my own. I needed help, and Ron was the only person who even knew what I was getting myself into.

Unfortunately for me – or, perhaps, fortunately, as it turned out – Ron was in a meeting when I arrived. With a resigned sigh, I threw myself into the leather waiting room chair. I was not in the mood for anything at that point. I was frustrated for letting that slimy git out of my clutches, tired for walking two miles, and confused about Malfoy. It had taken the man about two minutes to get under my skin, to get me all hot and bothered, without laying so much as a finger on me. It was obvious that I wasn't over him. Not even a little bit.

I looked up to see my brother's pug-faced secretary staring at me.

Pansy's black hair had been tied back into a neat knot, her Ministry-issued work robes were perfectly fitted to her curvy form, and her dark eyes were fixed on me as though I were her prey. She had one eyebrow lifted in what appeared to be either curiosity or amusement. Perhaps it was a mixture of the two.

I returned the expression, not particularly in the mood to indulge Pansy in her desire for an exchange of snide quips. "Can I help you, Parkinson?" I asked, not even bothering to hide the contempt from my voice.

She shrugged, her expression beginning to lead more towards the side of amused. "I was just wondering what you were doing back here already, is all. Seeing as how you ran out of this office not four hours ago as though your trousers were on fire, I didn't expect you to return so quickly."

"Well, I had sort of an issue," I answered. "I was supposed to be tracking…" I trailed off, realizing for the first time that Pansy and Draco had been close friends since they were kids. Though I was reasonably certain that she was aware of Draco's incarceration and murder conviction, I was unsure of whether or not it was a sour subject for her. "I was supposed to be looking for someone, and I found them, but then they kind of got away…"

Her eyes bulged from her skull. "You found Draco, and you let him go?"

I winced at the shrieking of her voice. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"You silly bint, Ron is going to murder you!" she exclaimed. "I mean it, Weasley, you're a dead woman!"

"Don't sound so bloody giddy about it…"

"No one has even managed to track him at all, though! How did you do it? Where was he?"

My eyes narrowed. "Like I'm going to tell you anything."

"Oh, please, Weasley," she said dismissively, waving me off. "You act like I'd tell your brother anything. He only hired me because my father told him he had to." She came around to the other side of her desk, kneeling in front of me. "Come on. I've got to know."

I studied her briefly. More than anything, she looked curious and perhaps even a bit hurt. She had been friends with Theo, also, and it seemed pretty likely that she'd have been upset by his death. I sighed and decided that she would probably hear about anything that I reported to Ron, anyway. "He was holed up in a flat about two miles from Malfoy Manor," I said, keeping my details to a minimum.

She snorted. "And you saw him?"

I nodded. "I talked to him for a few minutes, and then he Apparated away. I thought I'd turn in my cases to Ron. I'll never find him again, and it's pretty obvious that I'm not cut out for this at all."

"Don't you dare!" Pansy exclaimed, her expression a mixture of disgust and outrage. "Finnegan's been a bounty hunter for years, and he's had no luck finding Draco for over a week. You found him after only a few hours! You can't give up!"

To say that Pansy's expression of confidence in me was unexpected would have been an understatement, but I couldn't deny that it was nice to hear. At the very least, she had confidence in me; she thought that I had done something right. But it didn't matter. Ron was going to throw me off the case as soon as he found out that I had let Malfoy get away.

As if reading my thoughts, Pansy jumped up, pulling me out of the chair with her. "Listen, Weasley, Ron is going to be out of the meeting soon. If he sees you, he's going to think something is wrong."

"But – but there _is_, Pansy. I have no idea what I'm doing."

Still ushering me out of the offices, she began speaking in hushed tones. "There are other bounty hunters who work for the Ministry. Do you remember Blaise Zabini?"

"Yes," I said. "Zabini is a bounty hunter?"

She nodded excitedly. "A damn good one, too." She handed me a small scrap of parchment. "There's his Floo and his address. He can help you. Just tell him that Pansy sent you; he kind of owes me a favour."

As Parkinson gave me one last push out of the office, I stared at the parchment in my hand.

I guess I was going to talk to Blaise Zabini.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks for the wonderful feedback, and thanks to my betas – Christy with a CH and tumble and fall for their wonderful, wonderful ideas! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit shorter, but very important. I hope to get chapter four published very soon. :)

* * *

The next afternoon, I found myself sitting in a London café, staring across the table at Blaise Zabini.

I watched intently as he munched on his fish and chips, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was staring at him. It wasn't really as though anything about the man surprised me - he looked exactly the same as he had when we were in school – but it was rather strange to be joining him for a meal. And besides the fact that he was careful not to intrude on my half of the table, he had made no acknowledgement whatsoever that we were even dining together.

I tapped my foot under the table as a show of my impatience. I had things to do, and I didn't really feel like watching Blaise eat all afternoon, even if he was a rather attractive man. After a few more minutes with no reply, I cleared my throat rather loudly.

He still paid me no attention.

"Okay, Blaise?" I began, finally reaching the point of being fed up. "Do you think that you and I could possibly squeeze in a few words between bites? I have things to do."

Finally, he looked up at me. I hated to admit how attractive I found the man to be, but when my breath caught in my throat at the look in his smouldering eyes, there was really no way for me to deny it. He was the polar opposite of Draco Malfoy – dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. And he smiled – something which also separated him from Draco. The way his eyes began boring into me made me look away immediately.

"Sorry, that was rude," I said, picking up my fork and jabbing at my salad. "I shouldn't have –"

"Took you long enough," he said, cutting me off. "You're much more patient than I gave you credit for."

And just like that, his good looks and his smouldering eyes meant nothing. I glared at him irritably. "You bloody annoying git! You were testing me?"

"That, I was, darling."

I let out a sound of disgust and threw my napkin on the table. I was getting entirely fed up with attractive men who knew how to get under my skin. It amazed me how Blaise and Draco could be so alike and so different at the same time – and I had just got done giving the former so much credit, too. "All right. Pansy told me I needed your help, so if you have got something to offer me, I'd be grateful for it. If your plan is just to drive me mad, well, I've got more important things to do."

He smirked at me as he eyed me up and down. "You're pretty cute when you're angry."

I had no response to that. I snapped my lips closed and crossed my arms, eyeing the man across the table in a way that made my feelings of exasperation very clear.

"All right, Weasley, here's the deal." He folded his hands on the table, eyeing me much more seriously. "You're in way over your head. Draco Malfoy is dangerous, and if he knows that you're after him, you're not going to be able to catch him easily. You've been to his flat, so chances are, he isn't going to be back there anytime soon."

"So – so, what do you suggest?"

He shrugged. "Investigate the case that he's being tried for. There's obviously a reason why Draco's not willing to go quietly." He must have noticed the utterly blank look plastered on my face because he went on after a momentary pause. "Do some digging, Weasley."

"But I'm not an Auror," I explained. "I don't have any idea of how to begin. I don't know what I'm even allowed to do or who I should speak to. I mean, I know I should talk to the witnesses, but other than that…"

He rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not that difficult. You're not an Auror, which means you don't need to abide by the law."

I faltered for a moment. "What do you mean by that?"

Blaise sighed deeply. "You're searching for a man who is wanted by all of the Aurors in Britain, who has got a ton of magical capabilities up his sleeve, and an uncanny ability to stay hidden when he doesn't want to be found. But you, Weasley, have got the opportunity to search for him without having to follow the book. That is what being a bounty hunter means." He shrugged, almost as if what he was saying was common knowledge. "You can talk to people unofficially – just get your information and use it to get where you've got to go. It's a lot easier than other people make it, which is why there are so few of us who are actually successful."

"You're a successful one, I take it."

"Naturally."

I covered my face with my hands for a minute. "What makes you think I'd be any good at all at this?"

He stood up from our booth and stood beside me, crouching down so that we were at eye level. I could feel his breath against my skin and his scrutinizing gaze piercing through me. "If you were crafty enough to get your own brother to hire you for such a dangerous, dangerous job, and you're cute enough for me to be enticed by you, Draco should be," he paused, "a cinch."

Slowly, I raised an eyebrow and watched as Blaise left the café.

This was about to become a little more interesting.

* * *

I had gone back to my flat after that interesting lunch I'd shared with Blaise. It wasn't as though I didn't understand what he had said, but I still wasn't sure if I had the stones for what he was implying. I'd never understood my brother's desire to become an Auror, and it seemed to me that being a bounty hunter was very similar job – only with less pay, less glory, and no help from people who actually had connections. Besides Ron, Blaise, and Pansy, I had no one to help me.

Well, that wasn't strictly true, was it? There was someone else who I knew rather intimately who had connections to everyone in the Wizarding world, but my pride wasn't going to let me go there. Never would I ask my ex-husband for help – not after I'd insisted mercilessly that I didn't need him. Not after the brutal fight that ended our marriage, and certainly not after I'd told him that his accomplishments were overrated and that the scar on his forehead was the sole reason for why anyone ever recognised what he looked like – because he was just so plain looking.

I didn't mean most of it – Harry, truly, was the nicest man I'd ever known – but we just didn't work. We were like two pieces of the same puzzle that didn't fit directly together, but were forced in anyway.

That's what our marriage had been – forced.

A white owl was waiting for me, pecking away at my window. I rolled my eyes and let the silly bird in, already knowing who the letter was from. "Hello, Hedwig II," I said, feeding her an owl treat. "I suppose he wants to meet up with me, doesn't he?"

Of course he did. I read through the letter quickly – skimming, really, for the important details – and discovered an address for a café on Fifth and Willowbrook. Despite my better judgment, and the fact that I had just come from lunch with Blaise, I decided to go. I Apparated to the coffee house he'd mentioned in the note and searched for that messy head of black hair that used to make my heart skip a beat.

I found him within minutes, sitting alone at a high table near the front of the store. I sat across from him, rolling my eyes at the fact that he had already ordered a cup for me.

This sarcastic gesture of mine was something he did not miss. "You've been here for thirty seconds and you're already irritated with me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement. "No wonder we had the speediest divorce in the history of the Ministry."

"You ordered me coffee without bothering to ask what I wanted," I said, taking a sip regardless. Of course he had got me hazelnut flavoured coffee – my favourite, as it were. "It's just a bit presumptuous, isn't it? Maybe I drink something else these days. We haven't seen each other since –"

"Since the divorce, I know." He ran his hands through his hair. "If you would prefer something else, I'll buy you what you want. I just know you like you're coffee to cool down a little before you drink it."

_Damn him_. "No, this was what I wanted," I responded, slightly defeated at his thoughtfulness.

Neither of us said anything for several minutes, but I could tell that something was on the tip of his tongue. Impatiently, I began tapping my foot under the table. Though I knew in my heart that Harry wasn't trying to hurt me deliberately, every second that was wasted staring at each other was a second that I could have spent searching for Draco. And it wasn't easy to see Harry again, either.

Our eyes locked, and Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Look, Gin, I realise that I'm probably the last person who you want to see right now, but I'm worried about you."

Rather than becoming angry, I took a deep breath, steadying myself for whatever he had to say. "Why are you worried, Harry?" I asked through gritted teeth. I did have a feeling that I knew where this was going, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Well," he began, swallowing hard. "I, well, I spoke to Ron yesterday."

I opened my mouth with an angry retort ready on my tongue, but he held up a hand to silence me. For some reason, I decided to appease him – to put aside my own angry thoughts and bitter feelings – and let him speak.

"He said that you're going after Draco Malfoy, and I just wanted to make sure that you know what you're getting yourself into."

Once again, I was prepared to bite Harry's head off, but as I gathered my thoughts, it occurred to me that this situation might be more difficult for him than he had been letting on. His normally bright eyes were dulled with something akin to pain, and there was a meaning in his words that sunk in. My heart went out to him, and I felt absolutely awful. Here he was with his ex-wife, and without saying the words openly, he was saying that he knew. He knew that there was more to this for me than I had been saying. He knew this was not all about the money, and he realised that these silly feelings he knew I had for Draco had never disappeared completely. I said nothing, knowing that my silence would tell him that he could go on without interruption.

To my surprise, Harry didn't say anything at first. Instead, he pulled a file folder from his briefcase and slid it across the table. "This will help you," he said quietly. "It's everything I've got on Draco. There is… a lot that you don't know about him." It was obvious that he had chosen his words carefully, and that was something that I did appreciate. The last thing I needed was a bitter ex telling me how to feel.

Gingerly, I turned the file towards myself and opened it, scanning the pages quickly. My eyes bulged as I realised that Harry had given me Draco's permanent record from the six years he'd spent as a Ministry employee – as an Auror. Inside, there was a more in-depth character profiling, a record of every demerit and censure he had received while on duty, an index of his previous cases, a more detailed account of his magical abilities and preferences, and more. It was everything that I could have hoped for, and the fact that I was not employed by the Ministry meant that it was probably not legal for me to have it. Harry had put himself on the line for me, and I was honestly at a loss for words.

"Harry, thank you," I said honestly. "This was very nice of you."

He shrugged modestly, although I could tell he was pleased that I was happy. "There aren't any answers in there. I mean, you still have to know how to use the information that you have got, but it's a start."

I bit my lip, almost as if it would hold back the internal struggle I was facing, but there was just something I had to get off my chest. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry that we haven't really talked lately."

"No, you don't owe me any apologies, Ginny. Just… just focus on your case, all right? Nail him." He got up from his seat and took my hand, pressing his lips gently against my knuckles. "Promise me, though, that you won't forget that I'm always on your side. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Before I could respond, Harry was gone – out the door – leaving me alone in a café, dumbstruck and confused, with my heart slowly breaking at the thought of what a retched harpy I'd been.

* * *

Hours later, I was back at my flat. Draco's Ministry record was spread atop Seamus's case file, scattered over the kitchen table so that I could easily reference the pages that I needed. When I had first begun looking over the new information that Harry had provided for me, I had no idea what was relevant to this case. His Auror file contained information that ranged from censures he'd received, all the way to his favourite colour. Somehow, I figured that last bit wouldn't help me too much – unless Theo Nott had seriously badmouthed the colour green. Draco was a hothead, after all. I couldn't actually rule out anything setting Malfoy off.

Frustrated with my lack of experience, I decided to take a break. I put a pot of coffee on and sat down at the kitchen table, resting my head on my hands as I waited for it to finish brewing. It was only a moment later that I heard a small pop, signalling the sound of Apparation. I half-expected it to have been Harry, which irritated me irrationally. It would have been just like him to barge into my home and insist that I need his help – which I did, but my pride would never allow me to admit such things to him.

Sighing, I looked up, only to be greeted with someone quite unexpected.

"All right, Hermione?" I asked.

"How are you?" she asked in return, pulling up a seat beside me.

Over the years, after my brother and she had got married, Hermione and I became infinitely closer. She was my best friend – my confidante – and one of the few people besides my family who I would trust with my life. I trusted her more than I trusted Harry while we were still happily married. But something appeared to be out of sorts at that moment. I could read it in her expression and her body language.

I cocked my head to the side. "Spit it out, would you? I don't really fancy sitting here and trying to decipher hidden messages through your troubled expressions." I paused. "What's going on?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement at the bluntness of my comment, but said nothing right away. Rather, she continued to look at me blankly for several minutes, twisting her fingers in her lap and bouncing her knees impatiently. Finally, she said, "I'm just worried about you, Ginny. Ron told me –"

"Merlin's underpants!" I exclaimed, standing from the table abruptly and nearly knocking over my chair in the process. "If one more bloody person tells me that they're _worried_ about me because of this bloody search for Draco Malfoy, I swear I'll lose it. I mean it – I'll go absolutely _barking_ mad!"

"Ginny, you're already a raving lunatic," Hermione retorted good-naturedly. "And anyway, Ron didn't send me to discourage you from this. He just wants me to make sure that you're not going to let this case bring up… old times. You've got a history with Malfoy, and it could easily cloud your judgment."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I wrapped my arms around my middle and refused to look directly at my sister-in-law as I sat back down beside her. "I'm just doing this for the money, Hermione."

She nodded. Obviously, I had said exactly what she had thought I would. "Do I have to explain all of the ways in which I don't believe you, or can we skip that part?"

"Please skip it."

"All right. I'll just get right to the point then." She pulled out her beaded bag and reached inside. After a few seconds of digging around, Hermione pulled out a small object from her bag that I was not at all familiar with. It was grey and short with a small red button on the side. She placed it in my hand. "I got this for you."

I examined it for a few useless minutes before shrugging. "What's it for?"

She smiled kindly at me, almost as though she expected as such. "From what I understand, Gin, the case you're working involves some pretty bad men. And, I don't doubt your efficiency with your duelling, but I just think you need something a little bit extra."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Er – Hermione, I don't know if hitting anyone with this thing will do much," I said, eyeing the small contraption with confusion.

Hermione laughed out loud. "Oh, no, no. This is Pepper Spray." She turned it over and showed me the red button. "If you squeeze this, a mist of nasty spray will come out the tip, and you spray it right in the eyes of the person attacking you. Aim this here, you see?" she asked, indicating the tiny nozzle. "It won't cause any permanent damage, but it'll give you a chance to get away, or to hex them, or whatever you need to do."

"Spray it in their eyes?" I repeated. "Wicked."

"I realise that it's very Muggle, but I promise you that it's very, very effective way of slowing people down."

With a smile, I wrapped an arm around her, giving her a quick hug. "This is great, really." I nodded towards the fireplace. "You'd better get home, though, before Ron implodes."

Nodding, she stood and approached the fire, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and preparing to disappear. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she turned to me once more, obviously struggling with what she wanted to say to me. "I know I said I'd leave it alone, but I just can't, Gin."

I hung my head.

"Malfoy means a lot to you, and if you come anywhere near seeing him, he's not going to hesitate using your feelings against you. Just remember that, all right? I promise I won't keep going on about it anymore."

On the tip of my tongue, I had all of the words I wanted to say. I could tell her that I'd seen him and that she was absolutely right. When Draco looked at me, all semblance of self-control that I normally maintained had gone right out the window. My whole body went into submission and my heart wouldn't stop pounding, just from the look in his eyes. I swallowed, containing those emotions, and plastered as genuine of a smile on my face as I could muster.

"Thanks," I said, my throat going bone dry. "I can take care of myself, though."

She nodded once, and then she was gone, leaving me feeling guilty for lying to my best friend, frustrated about Draco, irritated at Blaise, confused about Harry, angry at Ron, and genuinely flustered at the fact that nothing in the world seemed to make sense anymore.

Coffee forgotten in the kitchen, I went to bed. Tomorrow was another day.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This chapter depicts acts of sexual violence and may be a tad bit squickly. You have been warned.

* * *

The next day, I woke up feeling alert and refreshed for the first time in weeks. Even though I knew I was going to spend the day searching for Draco Malfoy, the new weapon I'd got from Hermione, along with the file that Harry had given me, gave me a newfound feeling of hope. I had a way of tracking him and a way of defending myself that I hadn't had previously. But before I did anything rash, I figured it'd be wise to speak to a professional who would know if I was heading in the right direction with my investigation.

I owled Blaise before hopping into the shower, asking him to meet me at the same diner we'd had lunch in the day before. I hurried up and got ready, drying my hair with my wand and dressing myself in a pair of jeans and a black top. I figured I'd stay in Muggle clothing in case my investigation led me outside the confines of the Wizarding world. Though I was new to bounty hunting, I figured that the Statute of Secrecy did not always prevent the non-magical citizens of Britain from witnessing certain things that may have been pertinent to my case.

With the crack of Apparition, I found myself outside of the diner and immediately saw Blaise occupying the very same table we had sat at during our last meeting. He was easy to spot despite the fact that he was dressed entirely in black, camouflaged and inconspicuously sitting in a corner. Like me, he was also dressed in Muggle attire. Briefly, I wondered if it was for the same reason, but the thought was fleeting as I took my seat across from him. I'd already decided that I would say nothing until he decided to look up. I wasn't going to play games with him today; I didn't need his help exactly, and I was in too good of a mood to allow myself to get riled up by his tests of my patience. No. This time, I was going to wait for him to speak with me before I paid him any mind.

He looked up immediately, smirk in place on his dark face. His normally dark eyes looked at me brightly. "Afternoon, sweetheart," he said, giving me a mock salute. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again today?"

My face dropped and I glared across the table, wondering what it took to get this man worked up. He was my polar opposite – calm, collected, and even-tempered. One day I'd figure him out, I decided, but for now I'd just appreciate his naturally easy personality and see if he could give me some advice about my next step. I shook myself out of my irritation and pulled Malfoy's file from inside of my bag. Thumbing through the pages, I retrieved Marcus's witness statement and slid it along the wooden surface, careful to not show him that I had gained access to Draco's permanent record. I wasn't sure why – perhaps it was out of natural instinct to keep Harry out of trouble – but I decided to keep that bit of information private for a while.

Blaise's eyes scanned over the statement for a few moments, and then he slid it back to me. "Marcus Flint?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. "I'd be careful about that one, sweetheart. He's a little too dangerous."

"Well, I don't remember him much from school," I said conversationally. "I remember he wasn't the nicest bloke in the castle, but I don't recall him being anymore heinous than any of the other Slytherins." I added the last bit pointedly, wondering if I could get a rise out of him.

He looked amused at my barb, but his expression sobered quickly, eyes set and determined as they peered upon me intently. "You don't remember because he never had eyes for you, Weasley. But believe me; if Flint sets his sights on you, you'd better lay low."

I wasn't sure what he had meant by that, and I also wasn't sure that I wanted to, so I allowed Blaise's cryptic remark to slide briefly. "Anyway, I know this bar in Diagon Alley – La Boehme. I remember a lot of Malfoy's crowd used to spend time there right after Hogwarts." I became a little flushed as I said this, not wanting to disclose to him that it was also the location that I'd lost my virginity to Malfoy – against the wall of a stall in the men's restroom. I cleared my throat – hoping the thought of that experience would vanish along with the silence – before continuing. "I thought that I'd go there and check it out – see if maybe Marcus has got something to say that might lead me towards Malfoy."

Blaise nodded as he sipped his water. "Probably would be a good place to start, but I wouldn't let yourself be alone with him."

"Well, of course not," I replied dismissively, not really heeding his warning.

He arched his eyebrow again and continued to stare at me for a few more long moments. "I'm not sure that you're taking this quite seriously enough."

"Why do you even care?" I retorted. "The only reason you meet with me is because you owed Pansy a favour."

A humourless chuckle escaped his lips. He tossed a few galleons on the table before standing up abruptly and graciously. "I guess I shouldn't care then. Good luck with your case, Weasley."

He was gone before I could even respond to him, and I was left alone and confused.

* * *

If I was being honest with myself, it should have been clear that I wasn't entirely sure what Blaise had meant by what he'd said. The obvious implication was that Flint was violent or underhanded, but since he never fully explained – and since I'm a delusional, revenge-crazed woman who has got no sense of self-preservation – I decided to pretend as though our conversation had never happened. It wasn't like I'd had any intention of getting close to Marcus Flint before I'd spoken to Blaise, anyway.

La Boehme was a quaint little establishment off the strip in Diagon Alley where many of the rich and the pretty would gather frequently for drinks after long hours at the office. I knew, without a doubt, that both Daphne Greengrass and Marcus Flint would be there on any given Friday night. The bar had opened during my seventh year at Hogwarts, and after I'd started seeing Malfoy occasionally, it had become a regular place for me to patronise. The rest of what I'd done there with Draco was something I'd have liked to keep to myself.

I decided to wear my best dress – a strapless little black number that came down to my mid-thigh, accompanied by black stilettos – and allowed my red curls flow freely to my mid-back. Channelling all of my confidence, I strutted into the swank pub, eyes searching for my targets.

Almost immediately, my eyes fell upon Daphne, dressed to impress in a skin-tight red dress and heels that left no curve of her body to the imagination. She was sitting alone at the bar, nursing her drink. It was strange, in my opinion, that she did not look at all upset, especially given the fact that her sister had been missing for a few weeks. Quite the contrary, she was laughing heartily and flirting with the brunet who was serving drinks. For someone who should have been concerned, she looked quite happy and carefree.

I took a seat beside her, smiling politely as I ordered myself a vodka soda. I sipped it slowly, hoping and waiting for the blonde girl beside me to notice me first so that we could strike up a conversation; I really didn't have the money to be drinking all that much, besides, so I hoped I wouldn't need to order more than one. It was apparent after only a few minutes that the woman had no desire to acknowledge me. With a heavy clearing of my throat, I decided to take the plunge.

"Hi there!" I said, my voice coming out as an awkward, high-pitched squeal. I really didn't have much time to waste, and Daphne did not appear to be particularly interested that someone had sat down next to her.

The blonde turned to me, eyeing me disdainfully with pursed lips. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, you might not remember me, but we went to Hogwarts together." I doubt that I could have been more awkward if I had tried to be.

She cocked her head to the side slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied me for a long moment. "In particular, no, I do not recall your name. But you're obviously a Weasley – which begs the question, why are you here?"

"I should wonder the same about you. I know if one of my siblings had disappeared, I'd be looking for them – not getting drunk off my arse." In all honesty, I had not meant to say something rude; it just happened.

Daphne looked more than amused. "Well, well, Weasley, it looks like you've got some teeth." She leaned in close to me. "But, if one of your siblings disappeared, would you even realise? There are so many of your lot, after all…"

"Get some new material, would you?" I snapped.

"As soon as you have an elsewhere to be, I'll quit remarking about your family. You would do well to remember that you sat down beside me, didn't you?"

"I just thought that –"

"Do us all a favour and leave, Weasley," Daphne retorted with narrowed eyes. "Your kind is not – has not – ever been welcome around here. If you think that having some little fling with Draco Malfoy all those years ago gives you i_any_/i sort of standing, you're dead wrong."

By that point, I was seething. Who did Daphne Greengrass think she was? She wasn't particularly clever or smart, and she had never been nearly as popular as Pansy or some of the other Slytherin girls in her year. She wasn't even pretty!

Well, all right, that was a lie.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I never got a chance to.

"Is there a problem here?" A cool, male voice sidled up between us, immediately easing the tension between myself and Daphne.

The voice had come from my left and, luckily for me, I had braced myself before I turned to him. It was, of course, Marcus Flint.

I truly did not remember him much from school. He was a few years above me, and we had no friends in common at that time. It wasn't until much later, when I had begun hanging around Draco, that Marcus and I had ever formally met. While a lot of women found Flint to be handsome, I had never found him to be particularly so. His skin had a sallow tint, his teeth were crooked, and his build was much too thin and gangly for my taste. There was something about him, though, that made people feel like they could trust him immediately. It was a quality that he shared with Draco and Blaise. It must have been a Slytherin thing, I decided.

Unfortunately for Marcus, I had learned many years earlier not to trust Slytherins.

"There's no problem," Daphne said, batting her eyelashes shamelessly at him. "I was just trying to get the Weasley girl –"

"Ginny, actually," I added, not caring how rudely.

"– to leave me alone, but she hasn't quite seemed to grasp the idea."

My cheeks reddened at her words, and they turned an even brighter shade when I realised that Flint was staring at me – smiling, actually. "I just thought she looked lonely," I said, shrugging one shoulder. "I, well, I heard that her sister was missing, and I thought she might want a friend. I do know what it's like to lose a family member, after all."

Marcus's eyes flashed at the mention of Astoria, just long enough for me to notice it at all. Still, it was enough for me to know that something was there – something he was pretending or hiding. "Ah, yes," he said after a moment, his throat briefly sounding dry. "Our little Daphne has been quite broken up for a few weeks now. How nice of you to care, Ginny."

I bit my lip. This was my only chance. Next time I saw either of them, I could not use the same excuse to stir up a conversation. If I was to ask about the night that Theo was killed, it was going to have to be now. "So, you knew Astoria well, too?"

This time, his expression did not budge. "An old girlfriend, actually," he replied coolly, eyes narrowed.

"I see. I remember – when – well, I recall that she wasn't close with a lot of other Slytherins. Mostly – "

"She was close with Draco," Daphne offered, smiling slyly at me as I stammered over my words, "particularly after he had got into the Academy."

Even though I knew that she was trying to stir me up, I also realised that what she had said was likely true. Why else would Draco have stormed through Theo Nott's apartment building if he hadn't at least been friends with Astoria, or cared about her in some way? I didn't miss Daphne's insinuation though; Draco and Astoria had got together sometime after Draco had his fling with me. It was a dirty blow, and I felt it. She kicked me where she knew it would hurt, and it did.

It must have been obvious that I had been affected by this, because Marcus suddenly cleared his throat, bringing me back from my reverie. He set a few galleons on the counter, presumably paying for my drink, and gently tugged on my elbow. "Why don't you and I go for a walk, yeah?" he suggested.

With one last glare at Daphne, I allowed myself to be led from the room.

My hand was in the crook of Marcus's elbow as we exited La Boehme and walked onto the main street of Diagon Alley. We went quite a ways down the street towards Knockturn Alley; I recognised the surroundings as he pulled me further and further along the way. With a hint of trepidation, I spared a glance at the man walking beside me. His face was much harder than it had been, and his eyes were dead set on looking straight ahead. It went against everything I knew – every instinct that I had – to allow myself to be led into a dark place with a man I didn't know, and suddenly I felt very uneasy. Blaise's warning of staying away from Marcus also began to flood through my thoughts. Marcus's expression, the location, and the situation altogether proved that I had made a mistake in letting my guard down, however briefly, because of what that cow Daphne had said to me. I attempted to pull out of his grasp, but I realised immediately that I was in trouble when his hand grabbed onto my upper arm with a vice grip.

With no further warning, I was pushed against the side of a redbrick building, marred by rust and mould. My heart rate began to increase when I realised that no one was around and that I had a fully grown and clearly dangerous man pressing up against me, eyeing me with predation. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was cut off by his lips pressing into mine fiercely.

I pushed him back – or, I attempted to. But he was too strong. His hands were pressed into the wall on either side of my head, and his lips were moving roughly against my own. It was unpleasant and intrusive, and I didn't like the feeling of helplessness that was beginning to overcome me.

His lips began to trail down the side of my neck. He sucked on my tender skin so hard that I winced in pain. His hands pressed into my arms as I desperately tried to push him away from me, trapping me against the wall. I could feel the jagged edges of the bricks digging into my skin, but that pain seemed miniscule once his hands began to wander even further downward, around the hem of my dress. The pain subsided as the fear of what he planned to do next began to take over.

A cool breeze hit my bared leg. I could feel him fingering the edges of my knickers, and so I pressed my legs together tightly, trying to keep him from touching me, causing him to respond even more forcefully. His other hand had found the fabric covering my left breast and had pushed it aside. I cried out at the unwanted contact, my whole body protesting against his ministrations. My breathing felt constricted and my heart began to pound as he continued to run his hands over me. I felt disgusting and used as helplessness washed over me.

"Please!" I cried, fidgeting and struggling against his hold. "Please let me go!" The pounding in my chest increased tenfold, and it felt as though my ribcage was going to break open. I was too afraid to cry, and my wand was stashed away inside my dress. It had been foolish of me to walk with a man, who I had strongly suspected to be untrustworthy – towards Knockturn Alley – with my wand out of reach, and I knew it. I had really put myself in a spot, and my only hopes were to fight him off or to beg him to reconsider. "Please!" I pleaded once more.

He bit my right breast through the fabric of my dress, hard. "Are you turning me down, Weasley?" he chided mockingly. "Are you trying to say you're too good for me? Nobody ever turns me down, little girl. Nobody."

"No!" I exclaimed truthfully. "It's nothing like that; it's got nothing to do with you!"

He smirked at me as he stood up, his expression nothing short of sinister as he ran his fingers down my face. His other hand had gone to hold my wrist against the wall. "So, who is this about then? Is this all about Draco?"

"Please –"

I was cut off by a slap in the face, followed by a bright flash of green light being emitted from a short distance away. Marcus had gone flying off me, and I crumpled to the ground, hand over my cheek where he had hit me only a moment before. It had started to rain, almost as if on cue, and I could barely register anything that was going on around me, save for a few flashes of light coming from two separate wands and a few indiscernible noises that seemed to have been accompanying a duel.

I started to run, but my high heels were not conducive of the activity. Breathless – and with aching feet – I crouched on the ground nearby another building. I had only made it about a block before I'd lost the ability to move, and I it would be unwise to do any magic until I got my emotions under control. I felt like I'd been there forever, hunched pathetically in a corner, when I was suddenly pulled from my reverie and shoved back against the wall. For a second, I thought Marcus had come back to continue his attack on me, but when I opened my eyes, I realised it wasn't Marcus at all. It was a man with light hair and a pair of haunting grey eyes.

It was Draco.

"Where the fuck is your wand, Weasley?" he shouted.

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

He shook me hard. "Where is it?"

"It – it's in my dress!" I managed to sputter, reaching down my leg to grab it. "I couldn't get to it before; I didn't know I was in any danger!"

"Right, because a bloody Slytherin who drags you into Knockturn Alley is someone to scoff at, isn't it?" He let go of me and ran a shaking hand through his rain-drenched hair. "Merlin, woman, I'd always known you were a bloody pathetic excuse for a Pureblood, but I thought you were smarter than that."

I bit my lip to stop it from quivering. He was right, but I absolutely refused to admit that to him aloud. "I didn't know."

"Well, let me give you a little lesson, Red. Marcus has been accused of rape five times in the last two years, and every time someone comes forward, they disappear soon afterward." He was pacing, and it made me anxious to watch such a display of uneasiness coming from a man who knew better than anyone how to keep his expressions neutral. This wasn't him, and it worried me how easily stirred up he had got when he saw Marcus pinning me against the wall.

"You – you knew he was going to rape me, and so you saved me?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but my heart was pounding even faster and harder than it had been when the older man had had me pinned against the building.

Draco stopped moving, his back turned towards me. "I knew exactly what he was going to do," he answered, his voice quiet and harsh. "I've known that bastard for years, and he has never been trustworthy." He turned to me, his expression a mixture of irritation and something else – something that I couldn't identify, until he suddenly appeared angry. "And I've been tracking him for weeks now, and you've bloody well blown the whole thing wide open by being stupid enough to let yourself be alone with him! Don't you know anything, Weasley?"

And then it all clicked in my head. I understood then why Draco had really been watching Marcus, why he'd had even the slightest inkling that I was in any sort of danger. My eyes narrowed as I took a few steps towards him. "And how about Miss Astoria Greengrass – you know, the girl you started seeing when you joined the Academy? How does she fit in?" I was not even the slightest bit abashed by what I had been suggesting.

He rolled his eyes. "Christ, Weasley!" he exclaimed. "It's been years since you and I have even spoken, and you are still bloody hung up on the fact that I didn't want a relationship with you after I shagged you?" He covered his face with his hands briefly, trying to calm himself down before he continued speaking. "Yes, I dated Astoria. We were friends – you knew that – and then we became more. She and I didn't work out, and we broke up before I even finished at the Academy, but we stayed friends. I don't fucking know what you want from me! You and I weren't ever serious, Weasley, and you act like we were betrothed!"

"I want to know why you cared that Marcus had me in this alley," I shot back, not missing a beat. "If I meant so little to you, if what we had all those years ago meant nothing, then what in the bloody hell were you helping me for? Why can't you just admit that –"

"That, what? That I've been secretly harbouring feelings for you all these years? Get a grip, Weasley!"

I shook my head, knowing full well that I wasn't going to get anything out of Draco. There would be no confession of undying love, no apology about regretting how he had treated me all those years ago, and certainly no admittance that he'd followed Marcus down the alley because it was me who was in danger. He'd have done the same for any stupid girl. No part of my fantasy existed, and I needed to let it go.

"Listen, Weasley, it's raining pretty hard. Why don't we get you home, all right?" His voice was a bit softer, and it might have even held a bit of concern. His face looked tired and worn, and his body language agreed.

"I can get home by myself," I insisted.

"You were attacked, and like it or not, you need to get yourself looked over. Why don't you Apparate us to your flat, yeah?"

I shook my head in response as the tears began to well in my eyes. I had, in all ways that counted, been violated and humiliated in front of a man who couldn't care less about my well-being, a man who I'd spent the last three days attempting to bring into custody because I was too childish to just admit that I held a grudge over him. I didn't want any of his help, and I certainly did not need or want his pity.

I started to walk away as the tears began rolling down my cheek. I'd only taken a few steps when I felt his hand placed firmly on my shoulder, halting my steps. The rain was pouring in buckets, so I turned around, all set to pretend that any moisture on my face had come from precipitation, not my extreme emotional state. My eyes met his for a moment before I shook him off, attempting to storm away a second time.

"Stop, Weasley!" he exclaimed, his fingers digging into my arm, bruising my pale flesh.

Without thinking, I turned around and slapped him across the face. "I was nearly raped just now, Malfoy," I hissed. "And don't you ever think that it's all right for you to put your hands on me."

To his credit, Draco kept his chin high and his expression even.

Had I been thinking rationally, I probably would have known that he had meant no harm to me. But I wasn't rational. My big plan to discover the mystery in this investigation had been unravelled before I'd even got near step two, and now the man I was supposed to be turning in was trying to stop me from running away from him. It was all too weird, and I hated that a part of me didn't want Draco to get into any trouble. A big part of me wanted to just fall into his arms and have him tell me that he'd protect me for the rest of my life. But the rest of me knew that those thoughts were nothing more than a silly, childish fantasy from a girl who never could grow up.

I swallowed hard. "Draco, please just leave me alone." My voice was rough and emotionless.

"If you don't want my help, that's fine, Weasley," he hissed, taking a step towards me, his hospitality obvious worn thin. "But this is your only charity from me. I'm not going to help you again. Next time you're stupid enough to get hurt, I'm not going to even consider coming to your rescue. I'm not your fucking prince, and I never have been."

The look of pure contempt in Draco's eyes broke my heart, but I stood my ground. "I didn't ask for your help this time."

His eyes raked over me once again, taking in my pathetic and dishevelled appearance. My dress was hanging off my shoulder, my left breast was partially exposed, and the hem of my skirt was riding up on my legs. My red hair was dark and matted against my face because of the rain, and my face was broken and torn. I was the very definition of pathetic, and we both knew it.

Instead of waiting for Draco to respond, I decided to give myself the last word. I Apparated back to my flat, attempting to dismiss all thoughts of that wretched experience from my mind.

* * *

Shaken, battered and flustered, I walked up the stairs to my third-floor flat. I could have Apparated or used the lift, but I decided I needed the few seconds to clear my head. More than anything, I wanted to take a hot bath, sit down with a cup of hot cocoa, and fall asleep listening to the Wireless. My whole body ached, my head hurt, and I felt cheap and used.

My plans for a night of solitary bliss were put to a halt when I stepped onto the third floor and saw that I had a visitor standing outside my door.

Harry.

He stood with his hands in his pockets as he looked down at his feet. His messy black hair was damp – presumably from the rain – but his clothes were completely dry. It was likely that he'd been there for a while, waiting for me to return.

I sighed loudly to make him aware of my presence.

His eyes snapped up to lock with mine. A small smile began to form at the corners of his lips. "There you are."

"All right, Harry?" I asked, pulling out my keys and my wand to unlock the door. "I was planning to take it easy for the rest of the night. I'm not really in the mood for company."

The brightness of his green eyes dimmed as he took a step back to eye my dishevelled appearance. My dress was still askew, my hair was a mess, my eyes were red, and my face was puffy. He swallowed visibly. "Are you… all right?" he asked tentatively, obviously being cautious of how he spoke to me. Harry knew well enough that I had a temper and that I would not hesitate for a second to throw him out of my building.

"I'll live," I answered dully as I opened my door.

I left the door open, wordlessly inviting Harry into my flat. There was no sense in being rude to him. He hadn't done anything to me, and besides that, I knew he'd tell my mother that something had happened to me. That was all I needed. Molly Weasley's head would have been in my fireplace before I could say "Floo powder."

As expected, Harry followed me in and shut the door behind him. I heard him lock the door with his wand and then twist the deadbolt. It was obvious that he wasn't planning to leave anytime soon, so I put on a double pot of tea before walking into my bedroom to undress.

Wincing, I peeled my wet clothes off myself. I could finally feel the bruises forming on my pale skin, and part of me considered using my wand to heel them. But I decided not to. I wanted the constant reminder of what Flint had done to me – to serve as my motivation and determination to nail him, and to remind me that I should have listened to Blaise's warning. I knew that Draco Malfoy should have been my top priority, but as angry as I was with that bastard, I couldn't find it in myself to think about him. No matter what he'd said – or what I had – he had saved me from being raped, and I couldn't help but feel grateful about that.

I must have been standing in front of my bedroom mirror for a long time because the next thing I knew, Harry was standing in my doorway. I wrapped my arms around myself to cover my bare skin. It was silly, I knew. It wasn't like he had never seen me undressed before, but it wasn't about being naked. It was about the bruises and the physical trauma, and I just didn't want him to see me like that. Not Harry, not anyone.

His eyes were soft as he sat beside me, running his hands along my shoulder. "Let me look at those, Gin," he said softly. His fingertips brushed over the marks. "Who did this to you? Was it Malfoy?"

A part of me wanted to lash out and tell him that Draco had saved me from further injury, but I didn't want him to think I was completely incompetent because I had not been able to bring him in after we had been face-to-face. I said nothing, only shrugged his hands from my shoulders. I couldn't stand the thought of being touched, and I hated how weak I seemed.

"Please don't push me away." Harry's voice was quiet and pleading. "I can help you – I'm an Auror. I can arrest whoever hurt you."

"It's not your battle, Harry," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Leave it alone."

He sighed, resigned and frustrated. "You know, it may not be my battle, and we may not be married anymore, but I still care about you, Ginny. I will always care about you, no matter how much you try to push me away." He paused, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers together. "I still love you."

I yanked my hand away from him like I'd been attacked. I couldn't listen to him – not after the night I'd had, not after having Draco break my heart into a thousand pieces. "I don't, Harry," I said coldly. "We're friends. I don't love you like that."

"Bollocks," he said, putting my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him. "You and I will never be friends. We can't be." He touched the handprint on my cheek gingerly. "Who hit you? Who hurt you? God, Ginny, let me help you for once! If you hadn't pushed me away so much, we'd still be together. We'd still be happy and married, and this would never have happened!"

"So it's my fault then?" I demanded, getting to my feet and towering over him. "I asked to be attacked against a building in Knockturn Alley?"

"No, I didn't mean –"

"I suppose I wanted to have his hand up my skirt, too, didn't I? I wanted him to tear my dress?"

"Stop it, that's not –"

"I didn't ask for anyone to hurt me, Harry," I said, my voice shaking and my eyes starting to well with tears. "I – I didn't want him to touch me, and you – you think it was my fault."

He stood, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him. His hands ran over my bare back soothingly, kissing my shoulders and my hair and the sides of my face. Even though I desperately wanted to fight him, to push him away and to stop treating me like I was his to worry about, I couldn't bring myself to. I let myself cry and buried my face into his chest, clutching onto him for dear life, as if I'd dissolve into nothingness if I couldn't feel him against me. I knew it was a mistake – knew that I'd regret it later – but at that moment, I couldn't let him go.

"It – it wasn't him," I said through my tears. "Draco. He – he wasn't the one who did – did this to me."

"Shh, it's all right," he cooed soothingly. "It's all right. Tell me who it was."

I shook my head. "I can't."

His hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me back from him slightly so that he could look at me better. "Ginny, listen to yourself. This isn't you! You're falling apart. You're letting someone who deserves nothing get away with hurting you. The Ginny I know would never let that happen. Why? Why are you protecting him?"

A strangled sob escaped my lips, and I fell into his arms, my weight falling onto him completely. I felt his arms wrap around me more completely as he sat us onto the bed. He pulled me towards the head of the bed, sliding along with me. He laid us down, still massaging my arms and back soothingly. Against my better judgment, I allowed myself to melt into him, to be comforted by him. I didn't say a word, and before I knew it, his lips were pressing against mine.

I knew I should have stopped him the minute he kissed me, but some part of me needed him. Some part of me needed to remember that it wasn't me who was dysfunctional – it was _him_. I was lucky to have gotten away relatively free of injury – barring the emotional kind, anyway. I needed to feel wanted and loved as a person, not disgusting and used.

My senses began to go into overdrive as Harry began to remove what clothing I had left, and despite everything, I began to unbuckle the clasp of his jeans. It didn't take long before he was pressing into me, my body taking over as a soft gasp escaped my lips. I hadn't been with anyone since him, but everything about our intimacy in that moment felt different – foreign. Before, sex had been something to do because we were in the right mood. But this was an entirely different animal. I needed Harry. For the first time, I needed him so that I could feel whole.

We finished after a short while, and he got comfortable on his side next to me. His arm was still draped over me, and my body was angled slightly towards him. I felt his fingers tracing delicate patterns over my skin as he kissed the bruises and the bite marks marring my pale flesh. A pang resonated in my chest as I realised what had just happened.

Harry loved me, and I'd used him.

Several hours went by before I was finally able to fall asleep, but the guilt had not subsided even in the slightest.

* * *

**A/N:** I apologise, DG shippers, for the Harry/Ginny interaction here, and I know some of you might be a little angry, but I promise promise promise that this is necessary for the Draco/Ginny interaction to come! Please review - it just makes me so happy! :)


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was bright the next morning, and the slight separation in the curtains gave the light a perfect angle to shine directly into my bedroom and onto my face. It took me a moment to remember what had happened the night before, and it wasn't until I discovered that my ex-husband was lying naked in bed with me that it all came back in full force.

My body ached as I threw my legs over the side of the bed. I hadn't healed any of the marks that Marcus's attack had left on me, and I was also pleasantly sore from the sex I'd had with Harry. That low ache gave me no room to misinterpret my actions during the previous night and pretend that what happened _didn't_, since it had been quite some time since I'd been active.

Quickly, I gathered up my dress, shoes and the undergarments that I'd worn and carried them into the bathroom. I turned the water in the shower on as hot as it would go, wanting desperately to wash away all evidence of any of the men that I'd encountered the previous night – Harry, Marcus, and Draco. My skin burned at first from the scalding temperature, but I became accustomed to it after a few minutes and it started to soothe the aching muscles all over my body. I gave myself plenty of time to gather my thoughts before I emerged from the shower and wrapping myself up in a giant red towel.

My hopes that Harry would still be asleep were short lived. He was propped up on his elbows, eyeing me cautiously as I returned to my bedroom to dress. "Hey," he whispered, his voice croaking.

"Hi," I answered shortly, rummaging through my drawers and my closet for something to wear. I'd selected an old t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans for the day. I didn't really feel like looking my best after the night I'd had, and it wasn't like I had anyone to impress, anyway. "Don't you have to get ready for work?"

"Reckon I should," he answered with a nod. He got out of bed, unabashed at his nudity, and walked towards me. "Do you mind if I use your shower?"

"Oh," I said nervously, attempting – and failing – to not look at his lower half. It wasn't like I was unfamiliar with my ex-husband's anatomy, but my cheeks still began to burn at the sight. "No, of course not. Feel free. Just, give me about five or ten minutes to get dressed, and then the bathroom will be all yours."

He lifted an eyebrow, more than likely aware of my stranger-than-normal behaviour. "All right, Gin?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm absolutely fine. I'm just not used to sharing my space with a man anymore."

"We haven't been separated for that long. It hasn't even been a year yet."

"Right, I know. I know."

He must have figured that I was rather flushed and uncomfortable at his nudity because he reached over to the bed to grab his boxer shorts. After sliding them on, he shrugged a shoulder. "Is that better?" he asked. I couldn't tell whether or not he was agitated or amused by the way I was acting, but more than likely it was a mixture of the two.

I nodded. "Yes."

He smiled his typical Harry smile that I had grown to love over the years and kissed me on the cheek. He let his lips linger there for a moment longer than I felt necessary. Obviously, he was unaware of the elephant in the room, or he wisely chose to ignore it. Harry had to have noticed my awkwardness, and he also had to have known that we were going to have to discuss what had happened. He kissed my neck and my shoulder before walking towards the bathroom. "I'll go see about that shower then."

After I heard the door click, I threw myself on the bed and ran my hands over my face. I had no idea what I was going to do. I had obviously made a mistake by sleeping with Harry – I had no interest and no desire of recommencing a relationship with him. There were many reasons why we had gotten a divorce, and I was unwilling to go down that path again. But it was also rather obvious that he thought there was more to what had just happened between us than what it was – a one-time deal, nothing more. His gentle touches and his shy smiles were painfully naïve.

I dressed quickly before heading into the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on. I noticed the pot of tea Harry had started the night before, and I thanked Merlin that I put a charm on my stove to turn off if it had been idle for more than twenty minutes. Many fires had been prevented because of that handy charm my mother taught me when I was just a girl.

I made breakfast for two – two omelettes, bacon, toast, and orange juice – and had the table set before he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his clothes from the night before and towelling his hair dry.

He smiled at me before sitting at the opposite side of the table. "You didn't have to cook for me, you know. I could have grabbed something from the deli around the corner."

I shrugged a shoulder, using my fork to pick at my food. "It's no trouble, really," I replied dismissively. "I was planning to make something for myself, anyway."

We ate in silence for several minutes. I tried to steer my thoughts away from the inevitable discussion we would need to have in regard to our future relationship and just enjoy breakfast, but that little pesky and guilty feeling niggling at the back of my mind did not seem to have any intention of letting up. My foot began to shake under the table, and my appetite was gone. I didn't know what to do or how to tactfully begin the conversation, and I certainly did not want Harry to be angry with me. The last thing I needed was someone else who wished me ill, as it seemed pretty obvious that I had plenty of enemies.

"Okay, stop it," Harry said abruptly, placing his fork on his plate and crossing his arms over his chest. "What's going on with you?"

My eyes locked with his. "Uhm," I began, clearing my throat nervously. "It's just that – I mean – you and I aren't – we had a thing. And – it doesn't mean – I mean, it was nice and all – but it's not meant to… you know?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, studying me for a long moment. "I think part of that was English," he said. "Why don't you try again, but this time use a few more words. Or maybe just complete sentences would be good."

"Damnit, Harry, this isn't funny!"

"I'm also not laughing," he responded reasonably. "Gin, just say what you want to say, all right? After waking up one morning to find a note on my pillow that told me you wanted to leave me, there's not a whole lot you can say that would really hurt my feelings."

I bit my lip – he had a point. He was always the more rational of the two of us – which was actually pretty sad, considering. "I used you last night," I said, pulling my feet up onto the chair and wrapping my arms around myself. "What we did was a mistake – I should have never let it go that far. I was upset, and you felt good, and I just needed to be taken care of. It doesn't mean that you and I are going to get back together."

He nodded, his expression indiscernible. He remained quiet for a few minutes before his eyes met mine again. "I didn't expect anything from what we did," he said, his voice quiet and filled with an emotion that I did not recognise coming from him. "All I wanted was to be there for you, and maybe having sex wasn't the best thing two people who just got divorced could do, but I don't regret it."

"Well," I said, pausing briefly as I nibbled my lower lip, "I do."

I regretted the words as soon as they were said, and the pang of hurt in Harry's eyes did not escape my keen sense of perception. He nodded silently, but said nothing, and my guilt continued to gnaw at me. I couldn't believe how heartless I was, how mean I had been. He had been nothing but good to me, and I had spat on him in return.

"All right," he said after a pregnant pause grew between us. "Well, obviously, you're entitled to feel however you'd like."

"I – I didn't mean it exactly like that," I said. "I just, I don't want to lead you on."

The corners of his lips turned up slightly, but his smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Believe me, Gin. I have no misconceptions about what last night meant. But it happened, and we can't take it back, so you and I can just leave it like that, okay?"

I wanted to say more, to attempt to explain more thoroughly, or perhaps even tell him about the events of the night before I'd found him on my doorstep. But for once, my brain decided to shut me up before I had a chance to dig myself in even deeper. I had just hurt the one person who had always been on my side – who had helped me when he had had no reason to and no way to benefit from it – and I had no idea how to fix it.

Harry stood up from the table and put his dishes in the sink. I stood up with him, rushing to the counter to stand beside him. After what I had said, I had an inexplicable desire to be close by, as if standing practically on top of him as he rinsed his plate would ensure that he didn't hate me. But he brushed me off and went to the table, grabbing his wand and placing it up his sleeve. I followed him to the door, trailing after him like a lost puppy all the way there.

We stood in silence for a minute before he leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek. It was a gesture he and I had always exchanged for as long as I could remember, and I felt immensely relieved that he didn't neglect that part of our ritual farewell after what I had said.

Harry kissed my forehead and ran a hand through my hair. "Ginny, try not to push everyone away," he said softly. "The business you're in is dangerous, and you're going to need allies."

"I know," I answered solemnly.

"No," he said. "No, I don't think you do."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the crack of Apparition rang through my ears. He was gone before I had a chance to ask him what he meant.

* * *

It wasn't for about an hour after Harry had disappeared from my flat that I finally decided that it was time for me to do something productive. As much as I was now petrified of talking to other people who were in Theo's social circle, I was also well aware of the fact that if I did not do _something_, I wasn't ever going to get paid. The old tawny owl pecking at my window with several of this month's bills tied to its foot was reminder enough, and I'd be damned before crawling back home to the Burrow, begging Mum for a place to live because I couldn't make ends meet.

I pulled all of my files about Draco's case from my bag and unceremoniously spread them out over my coffee table. I glanced over all of the details of the murder and all of the additional profiling on Malfoy that I had been staring at for the last few days, and absolutely nothing was registering in my brain. Perhaps investigating Draco's case had been a mistake. Maybe it was illogical to play Auror while I had no one around to watch my back. Maybe I should just focus on Draco and find a way to trick him into a Side-Along Apparition and "accidentally" turn him into Ron. Oops - I didn't mean to bring us _here_, Malfoy.

But as I looked at Flint's picture attached to his witness testimony, a part of me felt continuously uneasy. There was something there – something in his behaviour – that told me that there was more to this case than what everyone else had assumed. Perhaps Theo had been an innocent bystander, or maybe he had been targeted by Malfoy – I really had no idea. What I did know was, well, that there was something that I didn't know, and that something had something to do with Marcus Flint. I needed to fill in those blanks, and when I did, it would lead me to my answer. I just knew it.

I danced around the idea of owling Blaise and asking his opinion about my nagging gut instinct, but I eventually decided against it. If I met up with him, there was a definite chance that he would question me about my night out at the bar, and I just didn't have the strength to tell him that I did exactly what he had told me not to. Plus, I had insulted him to his face, and there was a good chance he would just tell me to go to hell. Instead, I decided to do something mad and irrational that a part of me thought was a wasted attempt. I decided to speak with someone who I had previously thought would be of no use to me, but I figured that anything was worth a shot at this point and that I should rule absolutely nothing out.

After all, who knew a man better than his mother?

Even though I didn't have clearance to Apparate directly onto the Malfoys' property, I was able to get within walking distance. After the War, the Malfoys had been forced to only maintain minimal warding around the perimeter of their property, as it was not conducive of promoting community and equality, so I was able to walk through the main entrance and up to the back door of the large manor without losing any limbs.

I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and did everything I could to mentally prepare myself for what I was going to find – or, rather, what was going to find i_me_/i. I made a fist and planted three swift, concise knocks onto the large oak door. I was leaving no room for interpretation – I was there for business purposes and nothing less. Of course, my rather frightful display of shabby Muggle attire did little to help my case, but I hadn't realised what I was wearing until it was far too late to do anything about it. Oh well. It wasn't like the Malfoys were going to respect me no matter what I had been wearing.

A few moments later, when the ancient door creaked open, I was greeted with a sight I had not expected in the slightest.

Certainly, many years had gone by since I had last seen Narcissa Malfoy, but my memories of her were infallibly clear. She had always been a very regal woman who held herself and her family in very high regard. Her appearance had always been pristine and her posture had never been short of perfect, and her eyes had always had a way of piercing through people, making a person feel like the lowest form of life possible. No one had ever been more intimidating.

But that was not the woman who had answered the door.

She was smaller than I remembered, and she appeared very old and fragile. Her face was sunken and pale, and her eyes lacked any spark of life that had ever existed there. Her face was so bony that she more nearly resembled a skeleton than a person. I was almost unsure that the woman staring back at me _was_ Narcissa Malfoy, but when she spoke, I knew it was really her.

"Who are you?" the older woman questioned, her voice giving the only life to her otherwise empty appearance.

A part of me forgot what I was doing there. I cleared my throat nervously. "Erm, Mrs Malfoy, I'm here to – well – to ask you if you have got any – any idea where your son might be." My attempt at a firm, no-nonsense statement came out more like a blithering, uncertain question from a bumbling idiot.

She didn't seem to notice as a flicker of emotion flashed in her eyes. "Draco?" she asked, her voice rising slightly.

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," I said. "I need to find Draco."

"Well, whatever for?" she asked, her tone a bit surprised as she crossed her arms over her chest. "He didn't tell me that he had a new girlfriend, and I can't think of any other reason for why a young lady like yourself would be at my doorstep asking after my son. Are you his girlfriend, dear?"

I felt very uncomfortable. Either she was either very senile, or she was completely oblivious to her son's affairs over the last weeks. "Erm, no, I'm not – not his girlfriend." I began fidgeting with my fingers nervously. Something about this encounter was just not settling with me, and I desperately just wanted to get away from her – from Malfoy Manor in general – and just forget that I had ever thought that going there could have possibly been a good idea…

Unfortunately for me, a large shadow graced the doorstep; it towered over Narcissa and made her appear even smaller. I knew who it was immediately, of course, and my eyes confirmed my thoughts as the man placed a gentle hand on his wife's fragile and bony shoulder. "Is something wrong here, Narcissa?" he asked, his slow and calculating drawl so reminiscent of the one I had heard from Draco a thousand times before.

Narcissa looked up at Lucius, smiling slightly, although the emotion did not quite touch her eyes. "Everything is fine, dear," she insisted. "This young lady says she is looking for Draco."

Lucius looked at me for the first time since he had appeared at the door. His cold, grey eyes were piercing through me, and I knew that he had absolutely no doubt about who was standing at his door, disturbing his peace and quiet. His mouth twisted into an irritated sneer briefly, only to relax as he spoke to his wife a moment later. "Is she? Well then we mustn't keep her standing about on our doorstep." He looked back at me. "Come, girl. We'll talk in my study."

Reluctantly, I followed them into the house, marvelling at the grand décor and impossibly high ceilings. I watched with unabashed curiosity as Lucius helped Narcissa settle onto a settee in their sitting room, covering her with a large quilt and handing her a book and a mug of tea. I was so fixated on their odd display of behaviour that I didn't notice when he had returned to my side.

His palm dug into my shoulder as he looked down on me with unmistakable disdain. "Follow me," he hissed, pulling me along before I had the chance to protest if I had wanted to.

Which I did want to. I wanted to get far, far away. Spending even a second of alone time with Lucius Malfoy in his ancestral home was something that _did_ register in my brain as decidedly dangerous – even if being cornered in Knockturn Alley hadn't seemed to be quite as dire at the time.

He directed me towards an antique, overstuffed chair near his desk and wordlessly instructed me to sit in it. There was nothing kind in his treatment of me, but there also weren't any malicious undertones, either. There was something different about his body language, his voice, his very presence that made him much less intimidating than he had once been. After watching him pace for several minutes – and finding so many similarities in his behaviourisms to Draco's – I wasn't all that scared anymore.

"Mr Malfoy, I just want to –"

"_Quiet!_" he barked, silencing me immediately.

So much for that theory I had about Lucius being not so scary.

"Do you have any idea what you've done, girl?" he asked, his harsh projection coming out as nothing less than a hiss of frustration. "You've come in and disturbed my wife, Weasley. Don't you have any idea what has been going on with her? Don't you read the papers at all?"

His last question emerged as a shout, and I sat in stunned silence at how little restraint Lucius Malfoy had over his emotions. I shook my head quietly, answering all of his questions at once with the single gesture. I really didn't know what was going on.

"Well, let me help you out then, girl," he responded after a beat, his voice suddenly more bitter. "My wife is very near death, and she has memory loss over very large spans of time. Sometimes, she cannot even recall who I am, nor Draco."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I wasn't sure how I was i_supposed_/i to respond to that, but seeing the pain in Lucius's eyes made me feel a twinge of guilt for imposing on their privacy. It made sense why Draco wasn't living at the Malfoy Manor. Lucius obviously had more serious things to worry about than the on goings of his adult son. But a nagging question emerged in the back of my mind, and I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"Does Draco know about his mother being ill?"

His eyes narrowed. "He knows, yes, but she is not to find out about what trouble _he_ is in, which no doubt is the reason that you're here. My son obviously has more sense than to fraternise with a Weasley."

I bit my lip, holding back the retort on the tip of my tongue. "Yes, that is the reason I'm here. Do you know where your son is, Mr Malfoy?"

"Even if I knew, do you honestly think I would tell you, girl?" Lucius's face was twisted into one of disgust. "How appalling, the thought of a Weasley turning a Malfoy into the Aurors for a crime he didn't commit."

I stared openly at the Malfoy patriarch, my heart suddenly pounding inside my chest. There it was – an alternate theory. It wasn't evidence, no, but it was at least grounds for me to look into Theo's murder, that everything wasn't _exactly_ how it seemed.

"Pardon?" I asked. "There is plenty of evidence that Draco murdered Theodore Nott in cold blood. There was evidence of Draco's wand casting the Killing Curse, and there were no defensive or harmful spells coming from Theo's. There are witnesses that stated that Draco had approached Theo's flat that night, off-duty and angry. What makes you think there is anything to refute that?"

He glared at me with intense, narrowed eyes. I could tell he was looking for me to back down, but I had no intention of that. Lucius Malfoy was a frightening man – there was no doubt about that – but he was not nearly as scary as he had been when I was a child. Perhaps it was age or the after-effects of the War, or it quite possibly could have been because he needed to care for his wife and so intimidating girls who went to Hogwarts with his son just seemed petty, but I did not allow myself to falter beneath his gaze at all. It only took a moment before he relented.

"Weasley, I realise that it looks bad, but I can assure you that Draco is not a murderer. He never has been."

"But were you there? Do you have proof?"

"There are details not on the record that are worth reviewing," he answered coolly, approaching his desk that was adjacent to where he'd told me to sit. After rummaging through drawers for a few moments, he handed me a cut-out article from the Daily Prophet. "For your records. Maybe it will help."

I scanned over it, my eyes widening in curiosity.

My mind was set as I left Malfoy Manor that afternoon.

Draco Malfoy did not kill Theodore Nott in cold blood, and I was going to do everything in my power to prove it.


	6. Chapter 6

I had learned a thing or two about Magical Law Enforcement due to having both a brother and a husband working for the Aurors. One thing that was drilled into my head, and had always accepted as being true, was that one should not blame the victim. What had never crossed my mind previously was that, no matter how clear cut a situation seems, it's important to remember that there are always going to be grey areas. Draco Malfoy "murdering" Theodore Nott was a definite example of this, and I suddenly found myself doubting the single aspect of law enforcement that I had always known to be true. Maybe it was okay, sometimes, to place fault on the victims. At least partially, anyway.

I stared at the document in my hand, unsure of exactly what to do with the invaluable information that Lucius Malfoy had given me. A part of my mind couldn't quite wrap around the idea that it suggested, what the article so _clearly_ stated, and yet it seemed as though no one else had been able to put two and two together. It seemed surreal, though. I remembered Theo as a rather quiet person who was mild-mannered and introverted as anyone, but I also recall him being one of the more intelligent people in Draco's circle. He was one of the more harmless. It just didn't make sense to me that he'd ever do anything like _this_.

I guess it was just another example of why I should never, ever trust a Slytherin.

Something Harry told me when I was sixteen-years-old rang through my mind as I continued to rack my brain for a way to make sense of this whole thing. Draco Malfoy, as vile and cruel as he could be, was not a murderer. His father had said the same thing, and my own personal experience with Draco seemed consistent. I could not ever picture Draco holding a wand to someone and casting the Killing Curse.

Not ever, and that was what I was sticking to.

I read it again for what felt like the hundredth time. All of the evidence was there – all of the signs and symptoms and the fancy medical terminology that I could barely understand. None of the facts were inconsistent, and it all made sense. Though I had questions about the other parties involved, namely Marcus Flint and Astoria Greengrass, I knew for sure that Theodore Nott was majorly responsible for Narcissa Malfoy's decaying health. It was all in front of me – in front of everybody who cared enough to know the truth – printed harmlessly in Wizarding England's more popular publication.

A knock on my front door shook me from my thoughts, rattling me perhaps more than it should have. I thought for a moment that my paranoia had got away from me, but I felt an eerie chill travel up my spine. Instinct told me that I shouldn't answer the door. No one who visited me regularly ever knocked – most of them had clearance to Apparate directly in, or they would just use my Floo. But slowly, I approached the door and stared through the peep hole and subsequently stepped away as soon as I saw who it was, gasping as I covered my hand with my mouth. I thought I was going to die from shock – how on Earth did he have any idea where I lived? I knew that I had to keep quiet. Maybe he wouldn't know I was inside. Maybe he would just go away.

"Hello, Ginny," he called from the other side. "You going to answer the door?"

I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to calm myself down and keep from making any noise. There was a lump in my throat and my heart was pounding in my chest as all of the hairs on the back of my neck were beginning to stand on end. I started to walk backwards towards my kitchen table to grab my wand, to send a Patronus and call for help.

"I can hear you in there," he said again. "I hear your timid footsteps. Be a Gryffindor, would you? Come out and play, love."

I took a deep breath. He had to be bluffing. I hadn't made any noise – there was no way he could possibly be able to tell that I was in my flat, could he? But what if he _had_heard my footsteps, or my gasp, or maybe the heavy beating against my ribcage was audible? He'd never go away, not until he got me. Not until I let him in. Not until I let him hurt me for real this time.

"Weasley!"

My wand was in my hand. Should I cast a Patronus? Who would I send it to? I could always call Ron, but I knew that if I did, he'd never take me seriously as a bounty hunter. In fact, he would probably fire me altogether, and I was too invested in the case to even consider that as an option. Hermione would only tell Ron, and I doubted if she'd be able to really help me with the man on my doorstep. Blaise was likely still angry with me, and there was no part of my pride that would even consider calling Harry. Not after what we did. I didn't want my family involved in this, either. I wasn't even sure my mother knew about the job I had taken up.

I gulped. There was only one option.

As quietly as possible, I cast my Patronus charm, desperately calling for help and hoping that my horse would find him before I let my fear get the best of me. I never considered that he mightn't know what my Patronus was, but it didn't matter. He would recognise my voice. I knew he would. He _had_to. And wondering if whether or not he would come was not an option.

I silently casted a spell to strengthen the wards on my flat. They weren't particularly strong, but they hadn't needed to be for the whole eight months that I'd lived without Harry. Certainly no one had ever tried to attack me before. Not until I took a job as a bloody bounty hunter, anyway. I'd have to rethink the wards at a less pressing time, I decided. Regardless, I made sure that they would hold him off for as long as possible. Best case scenario, I'd only need minutes. He could be to my flat in _minutes _if he chose to be.

When I looked out the peep hole a second time, I saw the man reclining in nook across the hall, lounging about casually and making himself right at home in front of my door. His Slytherin smirk was ever present on his sunken face, and his dark eyes were alight with malice. I shivered at how calm he was, and I wanted to punch him in the face for the way he was leisurely looking at the cuticles of his fingernails. He was so casual, as though he hadn't been knocking on my door moments ago and speaking to me in a threatening voice. I did not like one bit that he knew where I lived, and I liked less that I had no idea _how_he had found out.

A pop of Apparition sounded a moment later, and an angry blond with a look in his eyes that could light a fire burst in front of my door, casting a spell that knocked the intruder down in a split second. I fell to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees and pulling them tightly against my chest. He really came, didn't he? I had asked for help, and it had only taken a few minutes for him to get to me, to protect me. I was more confused that he had come to my aid than I had ever been about anything else, ever. Even though I had pretended to be certain, I really did not believe for a moment that _he_could ever be the knight-in-shining armour type. What did this mean?

The hallway suddenly went quiet, and my heart slowed back to a steady, non-heart attack-level. I took several deep breaths, wondering what I should do next. Should I venture and glance back through the peephole, or should I go about my day as though a creepy man hadn't tried to enter my flat? I didn't have to think about it long, though. My question was answered immediately as I heard another knock on my door.

This one was quieter, gentler. "It's me, Ginny. Let me in."

It was him. I could hear it in his subtle contempt and his gruff tiredness. I checked the peep hole for good measure. It was still him – his blond hair, his grey eyes, his pointed features, his thin lips which were, for once, not formed into that awful, pompous smirk.

It was Draco.

I opened the door, and before I could say a word, he had approached me, wrapping his arms around me so tightly that I thought I was going to snap in half. It took me a moment to respond and return the gesture. Protective embraces were not like him. He didn't care about me – he had said so himself, hadn't he? But it felt so nice to feel him again, to feel safe in his arms and to smell his warm, spicy cologne.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, still holding me, feeling my arms and shoulders and face as if he were making sure all of my parts were still intact. "Did he see you?"

I shook my head as much as his restriction would allow. "He – he said he could hear me in here, but I – I never opened the door. Just, I just called you." My voice quavered a bit more than I would have liked, but I was so shaken that I just couldn't help it. My reckless, Gryffindor bravery only went so far, and I had finally reached the point of collapse. Luckily for me, Draco had had his arms around me before I could reach the floor.

He pulled back, using my hand to guide me to the sofa. It registered immediately that we were sitting down beside all of the files I had on his case. I didn't want him to see those things. I didn't want to talk about it with him, how I had got hold of his permanent record. But mostly I didn't want him to know that I had spoken to his father and knew all about his mother. It was too intimate, too private. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings. Only to me.

"You want me to make some tea?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"No, no," I said quickly. "No, that's all right."

"What did he say to you?"

"He just said he wanted me to open the door. That's all. No threats or anything. Not really."

He narrowed his eyes at the door before returning his gaze to me. "Listen, you need to get someone to protect you. Someone to follow you around and to stay with you at all times. As long as he's walking around a free man, you're not safe."

I lifted an eyebrow. "No," I answered simply. "I can take care of myself."

"Right. That's why you called me at the first sign of trouble?"

"I'm beginning to be sorry that I did," I muttered pointedly.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously you didn't need me, Weasley. Obviously you weren't bloody cowering in your bloody doorway while someone else chased away the monster!"

"Get over yourself."

"Stop being such a twit!" he said, standing. "Look, you need someone to watch your back. Get bloody Potter on it if you have to, but you can't be by yourself. Flint is a dangerous man, and it isn't like you didn't already know that. You've upset him, and he's going to keep after you until he gets what he wants from you."

I wrapped my arms around myself self-consciously. I wasn't really sure why we were arguing. He had come in and saved me from having to face the man who had attacked me without even considering allowing me to drown in fear. He'd come in an instant, ready and willing to protect me. Ready and willing to save me.

Suddenly, I felt guilty for snapping at him.

"Draco, I'm sorry," I said. "Thank you for helping me, but you have to understand that I'm not always so scared of my shadow. It's just, after Flint nearly… well, you know what he did."

He looked surprised as he sat back down, a little closer to me this time. "You're welcome."

"I didn't – I didn't know who else to call."

He looked more surprised. "Really? The She-Weasel with the thousand reckless brothers and an ex-husband who saves the world had no idea who to call for help?"

I rolled my eyes. "No one besides you knows what he did to me, and if you think I'd call Harry for help, you're mad."

A flash in his expression told me that my statement surprised him. "You don't talk to Potter anymore?"

Supressing the urge to shudder at that question, I shrugged a shoulder. "I talk to him, yeah. But we're divorced; I barely see him anymore, and when I do, it's usually an awkward time. I don't like to subject myself to that if I don't have to." A part of me felt guilty for lying through my teeth. I'd felt nearly as much relief from seeing Harry on my doorstep the night before.

He chuckled a bit and looked down. Somehow, his expression was extremely endearing. Subconsciously, I scooted closer to him. We sat in comfortable silence for a long time, but I couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth flood through my system. I could smell him – the scent of cloves and cigarettes that clung to him always. I could feel the warmth of his skin, radiating off his arm and shoulder that sat only millimetres from my own. The sensation of his proximity sent shivers up my spine and a flood of anticipation through my blood. It wasn't like the last time I'd seen him when it had felt like he had hated the fact that I had even existed. This was us sitting in a companionable silence, loving the feeling of having another person nearby.

I turned towards him. "Draco," I said quietly. "I know that there's more going on with you than what the Aurors think."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

I nodded and picked up the document that Lucius had given me. I knew he'd be angry that I had it. I knew that he would be appalled that I went to see his parents. But I didn't want to lie to him – not about this. Not about something so huge and important. I handed it to him. "Your father gave this to me," I said. "I don't understand a lot of it – the medical terminology is way beyond me – but from what I gather, Theo was testing something. He treated your mother like a test subject in a Potions trial without even getting her consent, and now her mental capacity is disintegrating, isn't it?"

He visibly stiffened.

"I'm really sorry if that's something that you didn't want me to know. I just didn't think it would be right for me to go on investigating and pretending that I didn't."

"If Father felt that you should know this, then I have no opinion." His voice was so even that it was unnerving.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not." He turned to me, his eyes locking with mine, his jaw set. "He must trust you. Or at least he thinks that you won't use this against my family."

The corners of my lips flinched upwards slightly. "I won't, but I still don't understand. I don't get where Marcus fits into this, or Astoria."

"Who says they do?"

"I say so," I replied without missing a beat. "I know you, Draco. I know you were watching Marcus that night at La Boehme, and I know that there was a reason for why you were. And I don't believe in coincidence. Marcus said Astoria was an old girlfriend. Unless you're just angry that he was nailing your leftovers – which I think you're too prideful for – there is something that ties in here. I know it. I can feel it."

There was a long stretch of time in which Draco said nothing. But then his lips spread into a smirk. "You act like you've been an investigator for years. How long have you been doing this? A week, tops?"

"So?" I answered indignantly. "I still know _you_, Draco Malfoy. I knew even before I saw your father that this wasn't as simple as everyone thought. I just needed an excuse to look into it. And Blaise –"

"_Blaise_?" he asked, staring at me incredulously. "What are you talking to him for?"

"He's been helping me."

"Are you kidding me, Weasley?"

I blinked. "I don't get it."

"Blaise Zabini is as Slytherin as they come. He's less trustworthy than me _and_Flint. He just won't rape you in a fucking filthy alley!"

I could feel the colour drain from my face. "What do you mean, he isn't trustworthy?"

"You have got trouble comprehending simple sentences, don't you?"

"But Harry knows I've talked to him, and he hasn't said anything to me…"

"I thought you didn't talk to Potter unless you had to."

As if on cue, another knock sounded, providing me with a temporary distraction from Draco's question. "Ginny, it's Harry. Let me in."

My eyes widened before locking with Draco's. I couldn't let Harry find out that Draco was with me. Not only would he be taken into custody, but I would probably be in trouble, too. Not to mention I'd never get my money. "Hide in the bedroom," I said, my voice barely audible.

Draco wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Yes, ma'am."

After I waited to hear the click of my bedroom door, I mentally prepared myself for seeing Harry again. I wasn't ready to after that morning. I hadn't actually planned on speaking to him until he forgot that we'd slept together, a few decades down the road. I took a deep breath before turning the latches and allowing him in. This was not good, and I knew that as soon as I'd heard Harry's voice from the other side of the door.

He rushed inside my flat as soon as the opportunity had arisen, engulfing me in a suffocating embrace, pulling me so tightly to him that I thought my windpipe might actually break in half. It was nothing like the comforting hug that Draco had given me which had made me feel good all over. I felt like I was some little girl's baby doll – held onto protectively and possessively, unable to move or breathe for fear that somebody might take me away.

I slapped at his arms. "Harry! Harry, stop! What are you doing?"

"Oh, Gin, one of your neighbours alerted the Aurors – said there was ruckus. When I heard that it was on your floor, I just had to come over and make sure you were okay." He released me finally, still keeping me at arm's length. "Are you okay?"

"Yes!" I snapped, a little more forcefully that maybe I should have been. "Do I look like I'm unwell? Honestly, I'm not a child. You didn't need to come here. A Floo call or a nice owl would have been sufficient."

"But I did," he said, his voice solemn. He led me to the kitchen table and directed me to a chair. "I think we need to talk. I don't like the way we left things this morning. I don't like that you and I can't talk anymore."

I rubbed my hands over my face. "Harry, please. Can we not do this now? I have work I should be doing."

"Looking for Malfoy?" he asked. "Did his permanent file help you?"

"Well, not yet. It will, though. I'm sure." I glanced back at my bedroom door in hopes that that question would go unheard.

"Good, good." He looked at me for a long time, causing me to squirm beneath his gaze. "Ginny, I can't just make love to you and then pretend it didn't happen."

I almost spat in his face in surprise. "Harry, I don't think this is the best time to talk about this…" Mainly because I knew damn well that Malfoy was listening. Of course, I couldn't tell Harry that part… "Please. I don't want to do this now."

"I can't wait any longer. I want us to try again – to try and repair our relationship. I'll do anything – really, I will!"

"Harry, I –"

"We can go back to the way things were a long time ago. We can start over. We can have kids if you want. We can have two, or three, or four, I don't care. Ginny, more than anything, I just want to be with you."

For a second, when I looked into his bright green eyes, sparkling like emeralds with the hint of fresh tears that were threatening to fall, I actually thought I was going to feel my heart break. A part of me knew that I'd always love Harry, no matter what, but it just couldn't work with us. There was a reason for why I'd left him. But he didn't understand that, and I pitied him for it.

Swallowing hard, I took his hand in mine. "That's not what I want."

His face fell. He shattered into a thousand pieces before my eyes.

I wanted to die.

"What did I do wrong, Gin?"

After that question, I couldn't even look him in the eye. "Please don't do this. Please don't make me talk about this right now."

"I just don't understand. I never did anything but take care of you."

"That's just it!" I exclaimed. "I don't want that. I don't want to be treated like a child and _cared_for like some helpless little girl. You suffocated me all the time and I just couldn't take it anymore!"

"I suffocated you?"

I nodded. "You always did," I told him as gently as I could. "I loved you since I was just a kid, Harry, and I feel like you still think of me as an eleven-year-old little girl, coming down to breakfast in my pyjamas and being too afraid to talk to you. That hasn't been me for a long time. Not for decades."

He looked at me for a long time, too shocked to say anything. I know Harry better than anyone else. He wore his heart on his sleeve always, just like I did. We always had the most spectacular fights because we didn't know how to be tactful to one another. All either of us ever understood was honesty. It was so hard to watch his face break when I took away all hope of us ever being together again, but it was the only way that I knew how.

Harry stood and walked to the door wordlessly, leaving without even saying a thing. That hurt worse than anything, knowing that he was so angry with me for being honest that he didn't even say goodbye.

With the click of the front door, I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself, and released the steady stream of tears that I no longer had the strength to fight back. Tears of frustration and empathy for Harry and tears of fear that Marcus was going to come back and try to hurt me again. I always tried so hard to keep a calm and cool exterior, to never break down and cry, but it was all too much. I could feel a wet spot forming on my jeans where the side of my face rested on my leg. I couldn't take it – I couldn't put my heart on the line like this for every little thing.

It wasn't until I felt a hand on my shoulder that I remembered that I'd had a guest in my home.

I sat straight, wiping the tears off my cheek as best I could and tried to look as though I hadn't been crying. I failed miserably on both counts.

"So, Potter wants you back?"

I sniffed. "You could have been decent and not listened in on my private conversation."

"Well that wouldn't have been like me at all, would it?" he asked, obviously amused. "Besides, you were out here screaming like a banshee. I would have had to pick up on bits and pieces regardless. Anyway, I thought you and Potter didn't see much of each other?"

My cheeks flushed at being caught in a lie. "Well, I may have seen him yesterday and the day before. And this morning when he left my flat."

"Ah, well, that's plenty of time to shag, isn't it?" he remarked pointedly.

"I'm not discussing my sex life with you, Malfoy."

"I'm just saying I feel kind of bad for the guy. You know Potter; you give him a hug and he thinks it's all wedding bells. Shag him and he's never going to leave you alone again. I wonder what would happen if you were to feed him."

"Stop it!" I shouted, tears pouring once again despite my efforts to remain calm. "I feel badly enough without you mocking him. Can we please steer this conversation elsewhere and talk about _you_ and your _felony charge_for a bit?"

"Why? You can't handle talking about your conquests, Weasley? You had no trouble obsessing over me after the night I made you scream, did you?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you – are you jealous, Malfoy?"

"Of course I'm not. You're no prize, Red, and if I wanted you, I could have you in a second."

"Like you're so irresistible."

"To you I am. Don't you remember what it was like? I could get you to do anything, anytime, anywhere, and you would always obey me like some pathetic little lost puppy, begging to be kicked. That's you, Weasley. You're a bloody wounded animal."

It honestly amazed me that this was the same man who had come to rescue me, who had gathered me up into his arms and had shown the utmost concern for me. But now he wanted to hurt me. He wanted to make me feel bad about myself in order to show how unimportant I was. I knew it was a defence mechanism, and I told myself to ignore it. No matter what, though, it still hurt. It still hurt because his opinion still mattered to me, even if I liked to pretend it didn't.

I swallowed hard to stop myself from tearing up. "Draco, why do you have to be so cruel?"

His eyes narrowed and his lips fixed into a sneer. "I wouldn't have to be cruel if you weren't so fucking stupid, Weasley."

My temper had reached its breaking point. I slammed my fist against my kitchen table, knocking over a glass of water that had been sitting there since the morning before. I swallowed again and took a breath to calm myself back down. "Get out, Draco," I said calmly.

"You don't mean that," he said simply.

"I do. I want you gone, or I'll call Harry back here, and he can take you into custody. Don't bloody think I won't."

"I'd be gone by the time he got here."

"Why don't we try it then?"

He stood up from his chair slowly, taking several deliberate steps in my direction, eyes narrowed and set on me as his lithe form towered over my chair. "I'll leave, _Potter_, but don't expect me to come rescue you again the next time Flint comes knocking down your bloody door."

"I'd never call you for help again." I got to my feet, my eyes never releasing his penetrating glare.

Draco smirked. "And I'm not afraid of your boy-toy, doll. Don't think that little bit about him giving you my bloody permanent record slipped past me. And don't think I was stupid enough to leave it in your possession." He pulled the files from inside his robes just enough to show that he had them before sliding them back in.

"You're such a bloody moron! I need that file so that I can help you!"

"Right. You want to help me. I thought you wanted me gone."

I felt my eyes stinging. Bloody hell, I never cried this much ever. It was despicable. "I just want you to stop acting like an idiot. Of course I want to help you! Do you think I want to see anybody sent to that awful prison? Do you think I want your mother to suffer if she ever found out? I'm not so heartless, you know."

"And neither am I, Weasley," he said quietly. "If I wanted you hurt, I'd have never come."

I felt a pang in my chest. I couldn't take how he kept going back and forth. I wanted to scream. "But you are hurting me. Everything you've said to me just now hurts."

"I just hate the idea of you being with Scarhead." He looked equally as surprised as I was about what he had just said. Quickly, he clarified, "Even if you're a Weasley, you still could do better than that tosser, you know?"

I smiled. "Don't call him that. He's a nice man."

"Yeah? And what am I?" He took a step closer to me.

"You're a bloody prick is what you are." The hair at the back of my neck was standing on end.

"Am I?" He looked at me through heavily lidded eyes, wanton and icy.

"Yeah." My heart rate increased

"And what's that make you?" He was still inching closer and closer. Too close.

I bit my lip. "Out of my mind."

And then his lips were on mine, bruising me and claiming me as his fingers found their way below my shirt and onto the skin of my back, digging in so hard that I could feel nothing else. Nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his body pressing into mine so forcefully that I thought we might melt into one person. This was the lust I had been craving since the last time I'd seen him all those years ago. The burning, aching desire and the swelling of my emotions that had built up in the pit of my stomach all seemed to detonate at once, causing a single magnificent explosion.

He pushed me into a wall, shoving me hard as my back collided with the hard surface. He slammed his fist to into it, just to the right of my head as I was lifted up and encouraged to wrap my legs around his waist. His mouth began nip its way down my neck and throat, ending at the sensitive junction between my throat and my breastbone. My hips began to buckle at the sensation and I smiled to myself as I heard him let out a low, throaty moan at the contact.

I couldn't control myself at all.

My body began moving on its own accord, pulling him by the hand towards my bedroom after I had pushed away from the wall. I didn't have time to think about what we were doing or whether or not doing _it_would be a mistake. I couldn't stop. I couldn't pause. A part of me wondered if he was really even there with me or if I was having some elaborate fantasy that I couldn't wake myself from. Either way, the sensation of being close to him was so unbearably explosive that I couldn't even see straight.

It seemed like my clothing vanished. Piece by piece, he had stripped me down to nothing. All that was left was me – naked and vulnerable and exposed. Being with Draco was so much different than being with Harry. There was no gentleness, no sensual touches. It was rushed and hurried and frantic, like I would disappear from beneath him if a part of him wasn't touching me. There was something present between us that I'd never had with Harry – passion.

His hand was trailing gently down my stomach, fingers dancing as his feather-light touches tickled my sensitive flesh. I flinched from the contact, shivered at the feeling. I thought my heart might stop beating, or explode, or burst, or some other crazy action that was unnatural for a healthy human organ. I needed to feel him – all of him. I needed the intimacy and the full body contact. Hands and fingertips and lips weren't enough anymore.

"Draco, please," I said, pleading – begging. "Please. I need you."

Those eyes. Those beautiful, steel-coloured orbs that lit a fire under my skin lit up at the request. It was like he had been waiting for me to ask; he wasn't going to just take without permission.

He straddled me, still fully clothed, as his hands pinned mine over my head. I closed my eyes in ecstasy, just enjoying the feeling of being near him. His hold on my hands got tighter, and I strained myself against him in anticipation of what was to come.

I could feel his hot breath against my ear as he whispered, "Told you so, Red."

My eyes opened. "Told me what?"

He was off me, walking towards the door, but my arms were still pinned above my head.

"Anything, anytime, anywhere," he answered smugly. "Guess you're still just as easy as you were when you were seventeen, yeah?"

I struggled against the invisible binding. It was not giving out in the slightest. "You son of a bitch! Let me out of these bloody things!"

"No can do. But don't worry. They'll disintegrate within four to eight hours." He winked at me and smiled menacingly. "I'd best be off, lovely. See you next time."

Hours after he Apparated away, as I continued to lie naked in my bed, my arms bound by invisible ropes, I began to remember why I hated Draco Malfoy.


	7. Chapter 7

Hours after he had gone – and those bloody ropes vanished – I sat in my bed, rubbing my wrists to soothe the burning that Draco's binding had left. A very large majority of me was angry with that bastard for tying me to my bed naked and humiliating me – and stealing his file that I had barely skimmed the surface of – but there was also a part of me that was angry with myself. I had made it far too easy for him to seduce me and to get me to the point of submission. I had allowed him to gain control of me and didn't immediately push him away from me the moment that he had put his hands on me. Admittedly, I had wanted him just as badly as he had been pretending to want me, but that just wasn't the point.

It struck me how differently I acted when I was with Draco as compared to Harry. With my husband, I had always been brutally, painfully honest. With Draco, all I did was fall to his feet as he pretended to have feelings for me. And I fell for his stupid, hurtful game every single time. He was right; I was a wounded animal begging to be abused, and he was most definitely my abuser of choice. That realization sickened me.

That was precisely why being in a real relationship with Draco Malfoy was just not possible, and I made a mental note – since I had no file to write it in – that I would make it a point to give Draco Malfoy a piece of my mind the next time I saw him. No more weakness or silly little girl fantasies about living happily ever after, and there would be absolutely no more kisses or hugs or subtle brushes against his skin because those lead to absolutely no good.

And of course, tying him up to a bed naked and leaving him there would not be unsatisfactory, either. The bastard deserved it, after all.

It was obvious by this point that I was going about everything the entirely wrong way. Every step of the way, in the back of my mind, this entire investigation had been about revenge for me. I wanted to hurt Draco and humiliate him and make him feel as badly as he had made me feel, but this case was much, much larger than that. There were innocent people involved who were getting hurt and people missing who ought not be, and it all felt very dangerous and scary. This was real and serious, and it wasn't all about getting back at a former love interest.

Emphasis on _former_.

Right.

I rubbed the palms of my hands over my face in tired frustration. There was something so wrong here that irked me and scared me far beyond reason. If I squinted my eyes and tilted my head to the side, some part of me felt that Marcus Flint being somehow involved in whatever Theo had done to Narcissa Malfoy felt plausible. They were friends after all, and even Mrs. Crenshaw had said that she had recognised Flint when I questioned her about the night Theo had died. But Astoria was the x-factor – the trump card – the missing link. She did not fit in, but somehow I just had a feeling that she tied everything together.

If she was a former love interest of Flint's, then why was she missing? Did she know something about Theo and Marcus and what they had done to Narcissa? Or were the two men just pissed off about something she had done. Maybe Draco hadn't been lying at all and Astoria and Marcus really didn't have anything to do with it. Or maybe they did.

"Aaargh!" I exclaimed, slamming my face against my knees.

There was someone I could talk to, though, who may have always been an awful bitch, but at least I knew she wouldn't try to rape me.

Though I had failed to heed Blaise's warning about not being alone with Flint the first time, I was certainly not planning to make that mistake again. I considered Flooing Blaise and asking him to accompany me, but then I remembered that Draco had told me that Blaise was dangerous. All of these bloody Slytherins were driving me mad. But there was one who had, so far, seemed to prove relatively not insane.

And so, the next evening – at precisely five o'clock – I wandered into my brother's office at the Auror Department, wearing a slinky green dress and silver heels with my face so dolled up that I didn't even feel like me anymore. My hair was in loose curly ringlets, pinned back and out of my face, and my shoes were so high that I had to walk nearly one step per minute in order to maintain any semblance of grace.

Ron took one look at me and his eyes doubled in size. "What are you wearing, Ginny?" he asked me.

"A dress," I responded, taking a seat opposite him and crossing my arms over my chest. "I need a favour."

"Need to borrow some clothes?" he answered sardonically. "Honestly, sis, I am seeing more parts of you at this moment than I really need to."

I rolled my eyes. "No, no. This is part of my plan. I need to borrow Pansy."

"For what? I'm not letting her take you shopping if that's what you're thinking. She dresses even more like a tart than you."

"Would you move on please?" I sighed. "No, I need her to come to the bar with me tonight, and I have to be there in an hour, so I need you to let her go home early and get ready. I need to talk to Daphne Greengrass, but I don't want to go out alone."

Ron looked at me strangely. "Gin, aren't you supposed to be apprehending Malfoy?"

"I'm working on it…" I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.

"Well then why do you need to talk to Daphne Greengrass?"

"Because I can't talk to Astoria seeing as how she's disappeared."

"So then you think Daphne knows where Draco is?"

"Not exactly. But I think that Astoria and Daphne know something about what Marcus Flint and Theodore Nott did to Narcissa Malfoy."

His eyebrows shot up and nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Ginny! What are you doing? You – you're not an investigator; you're a bounty hunter! I don't give a rat's arse about what the Greengrass sisters know about anything else, or whatever the hell you just said. I want Draco apprehended, locked behind bars, with the key thrown into a bottomless pit!"

"Ron, there's more here that you don't understand. Draco didn't kill Theo. He's not a murderer, he couldn't –"

"Oh, bloody hell." He covered his face with his hands. "I knew this was a mistake. I knew that you were still hung up on whatever happened with Malfoy after all these years, but of course I had to feel bad about you being broke and give you a crack at it anyway. I should have known there was no way you'd be able to go about this professionally..."

I sighed loudly, ending his rant. "I am not still hung up on what happened with him. I just know that he could not have held a wand to Theo and cast the Killing Curse."

"And how do you know that?" he asked gently. "Gin, you never told me what happened before he went to the Academy. You didn't…" He made vague, helpless hand gestures. "Did you?"

I nibbled at my lip. "Yes."

His look of disgust made me look away shamefully. "Ginny, you shagged Draco Malfoy? How – how could you stoop so low? How could you have done that to Harry? You know how he has always felt about you!"

"Well, maybe this has nothing to do with sodding Harry Potter! Maybe this is about me, and maybe i_me_i wanted Malfoy." I shook my head and stood up. "Ron, Harry and his feelings for me have nothing to do with any of this! This is all bloody irrelevant because the only reason I'm here is because I need a favour. I need to talk to Daphne Greengrass, and I need Pansy to come with me or else I'm going to be alone in a pit of Slytherins who hate me."

"And Pansy is going to make the situation different, how?"

"She _doesn't_ hate me, and she works for my brother, who I know would fire her skanky arse if she ever let anything happen to me."

He looked at me, presumably thinking hard about what I was asking. Pansy leaving the office early was not the real issue here, and I certainly knew that. The issue was that Ron didn't think I was cut out for being a bounty hunter – and he was probably right – but I wasn't giving up on cracking this case, no matter what. I couldn't. Not after I had seen Narcissa Malfoy look so helpless. Not after I had let Marcus Flint get the best of me, and definitely not after I had let Draco get the best of me for the second time.

The corners of Ron's lips turned up slightly. His silly, endearing smile made me feel like a kid again. It had been a long time since he had looked at me like that

"All right, Gin. Let's make a deal."

"I'm listening."

"You have two weeks to bring Malfoy into custody. In that time, you must make weight as a member of this department, so work other cases during down time. If you focus all of your energy on him and you don't catch him, I'll have no choice but to fire you. The Auror department will see to it."

"That's fair," I said, nodding for emphasis.

"You can tell Pansy she's free to go for the day, but you are to report with me at least three times a week, Ginny. No secrets. You tell me what you know so that if you run out of time and Malfoy is not in Azkaban, someone else will know everything you know."

I nodded again. "Okay." I stood up and began preparing to leave his office.

"Ginny?"

I turned around. "Yes?"

"Why did you let him do that to you?" he asked softly. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"You know as well as I do, Ron, that we all do silly things sometimes."

"But you're so much better than that."

"Maybe," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I am, and maybe that's why I need to catch him and bring him in." I paused, wrapping my arms around myself almost bashfully, remembering again about the skanky outfit I had been wearing. "But, there's always a chance that I'm really not better than that."

"You are, Ginny."

I looked at him for a long moment. "If I was such a perfect person, I would never have been so terrible to Harry. We weren't right for each other, but I could have…" I trailed off, not wanting to list all of the ways in which I could have done things differently in my marriage. The list was simply too long and too painful, I just didn't want to go there.

Ron got up from his desk and walked across his office, engulfing me in one of his comforting, brotherly hugs that never failed to make me feel warm all over. He kissed the side of my head and tucked my hair behind my ear. "Ginny, Harry has been my best friend for a very long time, but falling in love with Hermione is not the only reason for why I didn't marry him."

I smiled at his attempted joke and buried my face into his chest. We remained in our embrace for another long moment before I got ready to leave the office once again. I felt strangely guilty about the conversation I had just had with Ron, and I couldn't seem to shake those thoughts from my mind. I had always said that Harry had always been there for me, that he was the only one who had always been on my side. But that wasn't exactly true, was it?

Ron had always been there, too – there to lend a hand or a shoulder to cry on anytime I needed it.

"Er – Gin?" he asked, my reverie fading as a result. "Don't you have a job to do? Isn't that why you came here?

When I started to pull away, I realised that I had actually started to cry. I despised all of this crying business that I had been doing. This wasn't me. All of these bloody men were getting to me, and it was driving me absolutely insane. But this was a different cry. I wasn't upset because I'd slept with someone or angry because someone was trying to hurt me. This time, I felt guilty for thinking only about myself for years and distancing myself so far from my brother – my best friend and companion for as long as I had been alive.

I ungracefully wiped my nose on my sleeve, and I eyed Ron with a half-smile at his disgusted expression. "Why don't you accompany me tonight instead of Pansy? It could be fun."

He raised his eyebrows at me, somewhat amusedly. "You think that you need Auror back up? Take Dean if you need that kind of help – he's always looking to spend time with you, the slick bastard. He'll watch your back better than Pansy." He paused for a moment, realising the insinuation of his previous comment. "On second thought, stay away from Dean."

With a laugh, I punched my brother in the arm. "No. I'd just feel safer with you."

"Everyone knows I'm an Auror, Gin. No one will go near you. Just keep Pansy."

Hesitantly, I nodded. "All right. And I'm sorry for not telling you about having sex with Draco. I'm sorry for not telling you a lot of things."

"If these are the kinds of secrets you keep, I might be better off not knowing." He hugged me one last time. "My little sister is never this emotional," he teased. "Now get the hell out of here."

After one last squeeze and an affectionate smile for my brother, I left the Ministry feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Even if I hadn't been on i_bad_/i terms with Ron, we hadn't spent nearly enough time together. I vowed to myself that that needed to change as I grabbed Pansy – who was more than thrilled to be leaving the office early.

Now I had to get something done, and I decided then and there that I was going to catch Draco if it was the last thing I ever did.

* * *

It took Pansy nearly two hours until she felt she looked "subtly sexy and flirtatious, without going overboard and looking easy." Her words, not mine. I thought she looked slightly more skanky than me and about twelve times as easy, but I wasn't going to argue. I knew I just needed to get to the pub and talk to Daphne, and hopefully Pansy would be comfortable with distracting Marcus from me. And hopefully Draco was also watching my back. And more so, hopefully Flint cared enough about his reputation to not harass someone in public.

The bar sparkled even more than usual; every woman seemed to be wearing ostentatious jewellery and glittering dresses. I wondered briefly if all of those people got together beforehand to coordinate their outfits. The lights were dimmer, the crowd was thinner – though it was much louder – but somehow the atmosphere still felt equally as distant and off-putting as always.

Pansy, however, did not seem to feel that way.

"All right," she said to me after we crossed the threshold. "I'm going to go mingle now. You'll be okay by yourself, won't you, doll?"

"Er – okay," I said perplexedly as I watched her walk away and join a crowd of men much older than her. So much for her working with me and watching out for Marcus. I shook my head. She was really something else. I wasn't sure why I had ever thought that she would really be of any assistance to me.

My eyes wandered throughout the room, and as if it were meant to be, they settled on Daphne almost immediately. She was at the far corner once more, talking to the bartender and nursing her drink. Several empty glasses surrounded her, and it was obvious that she had been sitting there for a while. The first time I had seen her at La Boehme, I didn't think much about her cowering quietly in a corner, but after noticing such a pretty girl acting like such a wallflower for a second time, I began to think about whether or not she was isolated by choice.

With no attempt to be cool – because that worked out so well last time – I worked my way across the room and took a seat beside her. I looked at her, unsure if I should feel disdain or pity. I settled on a combination of the two. There was something odd about a girl who was so cavalier about her missing sister.

"What do you want, Weasley?" she asked.

I was taken slightly aback at the way she addressed me. She didn't sound snooty or angry to have been tainted by my presence. Instead, Daphne just sounded tired.

"I want to know where Astoria is," I said, keeping my voice even and my emotions in check. "I need to talk to her about the night Theo died. She's the only witness I can't seem to find."

"I don't know where my sister is, and it's really in your best interest to stop looking."

"Do you even care that she's gone?" I responded boldly.

Daphne tilted her head slightly and looked at me sideways through narrowed eyes. "Of course, you twit," she hissed. She glanced over her shoulder casually. "This really is not a good time to talk about this, all right? I'm busy, and you do not belong here."

My cheeks reddened, and my temper flared despite my attempt to remain calm. "You look busy, what with your just sitting there and drinking while Astoria is Merlin-knows-where. How dare you tell me what I should be doing when I'm more actively engaged on righting wrongs, and you, on the other hand, are more concerned with how many vodka drinks you can down this hour!"

Her nostrils flared briefly. "Go away, Weasley. What I do does not concern you."

"Right. You're not _concerned_ at all, are you?"

Her fist slammed against the bar with such vigour that I may have jumped five feet in the air at the contact. "You know nothing!" she exclaimed, though not loud enough to attract any attention in the noisy bar. "Just get away from me, and stay out of this place before it's too late, all right?"

I blanched. Something was so wrong with that statement. "Daphne, please talk to me. I can help you!"

"You can't help me! No one can!" She turned to me, her eyes glossy and the scent of alcohol suddenly very apparent on her breath. "I don't – I don't even know if she's alive."

"Who took her?" I responded without missing a beat. "Tell me, and I'll at least know where to start. I'm going to look even if you don't help me, but it'll be faster if you do!"

"Weasley –"

"No! Give me a name, Daphne."

She looked into her vodka glass, staring into the ice cubes for answers. Her face had paled, and worry wrinkles were evident around her eyes and mouth, as were the dark circles that she had failingly attempted to conceal with magic or makeup. "Weasley, you know who it was," she said, her voice rough and pained. "You know exactly who hurt my sister, and you need to get out of here because he has his eyes set on you now. Please. I'm begging you to stay out of this." Her eyes met mine. "No one should have to go through this – losing a sibling and having no way of knowing where they are or if they're alive. Don't let your brothers…"

I noticed the tears forming and gently running down her flushed cheeks. I knew she was trying to help, and I knew that she was in terrible pain. "I'm going to find her for you, all right?" I said, my voice quiet and firm. "I won't give up on her, and I'm going to take him down."

I stood up. She had been an entirely different person the last time I had seen her, and it worried me deeply that someone as fierce as Daphne was so easily broken. I fixed my dress and glanced around in search of Pansy, and I started to walk in her direction.

"Weasley, wait," Daphne said. "Marcus isn't here yet, but he will be soon. Be gone – safe at home – by the time he gets here. He wants you to be taken down, Weasley, almost as badly."

Again, the way her sentence was worded struck me as completely odd. Take me down, almost as badly as what? What did that mean? I wanted to ask her, but I knew that – if what she said about Marcus coming soon was true – I would be stupid to hang around any longer. And so, with one last nod to Pansy to alert her to my departure – because I'm sure she cared very much – I left the bar, feeling completely mixed about what was going on. At the very least, I knew that Daphne wasn't the cold hearted bitch that I thought she was, and that gave me the tiniest shred of hope.

The chilly autumn air hung over me as I began walking down the streets of Diagon Alley, my heels clicking loudly against the cobblestones. The sound resonated through the air eerily, and I was very conscious that there was no one else around me. All the shops had closed early because of the weekend, and only the pubs were still open at eight thirty in the evening. I didn't like that I was so alone and vulnerable, but I kept walking towards the Apparition point.

It was then that I heard a rustle from behind me. Someone was following me; I could feel it. My footsteps sped up. I began racing away, but the crackle of a second pair of footsteps was still ever present. It had to be Marcus. I knew it had to be Marcus. I reached into my dress, tugging at my wand haphazardly as I ran, and as I pulled it out, I turned, aiming my wand directly at the eyes of my follower.

"Why the hell are you following me?" I asked, my wand hand shaking in nervousness.

"Because we haven't had the chance to talk, doll," he responded smoothly. "Not since you called your little boyfriend on me."

"Draco isn't my boyfriend," I hissed, perhaps more angrily than necessary. "And I didn't call him, Marcus. He was… in the neighbourhood." Of course I was lying through my teeth, but that just didn't seem relevant at the moment.

Marcus also seemed to know that what I said was a lie. A slow, calculating grin touched his lips, and his dark eyes went alight with malice. "Darling, you should stick with what you're good at. Lying is not really your forte."

My cheeks pinked slightly. "What do you want from me?"

His expression went instantly from maliciously cool to being intent and dangerous as his eyes turned black. Every bit of expression was in his eyes. "You've been nosing about, girl, and it's about time that somebody shuts you up."

"I haven't done anything." I kept my wand steady on him. "And you had better keep your distance, Flint. I won't make the same mistake I made last time."

He laughed out loud. "Love, I wouldn't try touching you when I haven't got a drop of alcohol in my system. Despite what you may think, most of the world still knows that you are nothing more than Weasley blood traitor rubbish, and that's all you ever will be."

"I'd much rather be called a blood traitor than actually be a murderer."

Once again, his expression went cold. "That is a powerful accusation there, little girl." His mouth twisted into an almost deranged smirk. "Got any proof?"

I swallowed hard, knowing that he was right. Unless someone found the body of Astoria, there would be no way of proving that any of it had anything to do with Marcus. He was good at covering his tracks, and he damn well knew it.

But my thirty seconds of pausing to contemplate his statement was my biggest mistake yet. It only took an instant, and Flint had rounded on me, pulling his forearm against my throat as he began to crush my windpipe. I tried to push him off, but my vision began to go fuzzy. I let out one last gasping breath before the entire world went black.


	8. Chapter 8

I could feel an awful pounding in my head as my eyes blinked open. I was rather grateful for the darkness of nighttime, as the piercing brightness of the sun would have been devastating against my sensitive pupils. But gradually, I came to, and it wasn't until I finally registered who was standing over my incapacitated body that I finally felt like I had done something right. Her expression of complete smugness was undeniable, and I knew – from what I was able to recollect, anyway – that there was a good chance that Pansy was the main reason that I was currently still breathing.

Slowly, I sat up, my hand grasping at my bruised throat. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse from being nearly choked to death.

If possible, her smirk widened. "You waved to me that you were leaving, but when I watched you walk out, I noticed someone following you. So I followed you, too, and when I realised that it was Marcus, I grabbed this rock and bashed him in the head with it as soon as I caught up with. Filthy pig, that one."

I released a breath of shock when I noticed that Marcus was lying unconscious beside me, but I said nothing.

"Anyway, once I made sure he wasn't dead, I Ennervated you."

With a final withering glance at my attacker, I carefully got to my feet. The ground felt unsteady beneath me, and I was reasonably certain that if I stepped too soon I would immediately fall back on my arse. I noticed that the black haired girl was staring at me strangely, but I said nothing, instead focussing on regaining my equilibrium.

"We should call the Auror department," she said with a sharp inflection in her voice that made her sound somewhat strangely. "Flint had no business putting his hands on you."

"No. I don't want to have to give a statement. They don't take me seriously as it is, and they'll take me off my cases."

"So what do you propose we do then?" she hissed. "Shall we just leave the unconscious body of a crazy person in the middle of the street so he can come to and be even more pissed at you?"

I sighed and nibbled at my lip. That was exactly what I wanted to do.

"Weasley, you're being stupid," Pansy answered bluntly. "If I hadn't been watching you, you would be dead in the middle of Diagon Alley right now."

"Marcus was precisely the reason I asked you to come with me, Pansy. Your being here wasn't exactly an accident."

She looked at me oddly. "What?"

I bit my lip, suddenly very aware of how much trouble I was in the middle of. I had been nearly raped and killed by Flint and had got stuck in the middle of a rather dangerous investigation, and I couldn't even begin to explain what was going on to Pansy even if I wanted to. I knew too much about this case to give it up, but I also knew too little to do anything about the parties involved. I was well and truly alone.

"Weasley, did something happen to you before tonight?" When I didn't respond right away, she stepped in my direction and grabbed my shoulders. "Answer me!"

I shook my head, ignoring that blasted stinging in my eyes. "Pansy, please. It's all right; I'm handling this."

"The hell you are!"

"Stop. Please, just stop!"

I started walking away, leaving Pansy and an unconscious Marcus behind me, but I knew she wouldn't give up. And surely, the whole way through Diagon Alley and into the Leaky Cauldron, I heard the clicking of her impossibly high heels against the cobblestones. And right before I entered the fireplace to Floo back to my flat, I caught a glimpse of the terribly hurt expression on Pansy's face. She really did care about what was going on, but I had no idea why.

So I stopped, allowing her to catch up with me, and then nodded to a table in the far corner of the pub. I began walking to it and took my seat. Pansy followed suit, and as if I could not control the connection between my brain and mouth, I told her everything – barring the bits about Draco – and as I did, I cried. More bloody crying. I was so tired of it, but this time it was almost cathartic. All of my emotions from the past week and all of my awful experiences were no longer confined.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I actually felt better.

But as I finished telling her everything the last week had brought me, a strange glint in her dark eyes made me feel distinctly uncomfortable. Pansy's hands were twisting and tearing at her napkin nervously and I saw her teeth nibble gently at her bottom lip. There was something that Pansy knew about all of this that she hadn't told me.

"Spit it out, Parkinson," I said, not unkindly. "Please, I'm desperate, and I need to start getting somewhere with this case or else I'm going to be out on my arse and in more danger than when I started."

"I know that," she said. "That's why I told you to call your brother. He'd keep you safe."

"He'd sack me for my own good," I said sardonically and then quirked an eyebrow at her almost guilty expression. "You want me off the case?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because… because, Weasley, there are some things that you need to know, and they aren't all things you're going to like."

My eyes narrowed. "What kinds of things, Pansy?"

She continued to shift nervously, her eyes darting around the room at anything and anyone but me. This was totally unlike the Slytherin girl who I'd known and hated throughout Hogwarts, and this was also nothing like the snooty girl I'd seen working for my brother. She knew something about all of this, and she'd known it all along.

"There's a reason why you're working for my brother, isn't there?"

Pansy's eyes closed and her cheeks flushed every-so-slightly. I knew I'd hit the nail on the head.

"You're busted, Parkinson!" I said, unsure of how to really feel, although anger and frustration were certainly coming forth as my dominant emotions. "You don't have a choice. You have to tell me everything you know. Right now."

She bit her lip. Her hesitation and wariness was almost palpable, and my heart went out to her, knowing and understanding her fear and her anxiety. "I was really just trying to protect myself, Weasley. You have to understand that I'm a Slytherin at heart. I'll manipulate anyone any way I have to so that I'll be safe."

"I got that." My voice was harsher than I really meant it to be.

Pansy winced almost imperceptibly. "Astoria is dead, Weasley. I know she is."

For some reason, that bit of information made me feel even more uncomfortable than I would have thought. I knew she had to be dead – and I had known for a while – but somehow the fact that Pansy was saying it made me feel like I'd been punched in the gut.

"And I was in trouble, Weasley," she went on. "Marcus wanted me next. That's why I got my father to make your brother hire me. I thought maybe if I worked closely with Aurors and didn't go anywhere alone that I'd be safe. And that's the real reason I followed you. I did see him going after you, but I was already on my way. I couldn't be left alone where he could find me. My heels were just so high that I couldn't move very quickly…"

I rolled my eyes. "Pansy, what does Marcus want with you?"

"That's just it – I have no idea!"

"Well, are you his ex, like Astoria was?"

"Don't be stupid, Weasley. I'd never touch him."

I rolled my eyes again. "All right, what do you and Astoria have in common then?"

She paused, as though that was something she'd never considered before. "We – we're both Slytherins, both women… hell, I barely know her. I'd say I have more in common with Daphne than her sister."

"But he's not trying to hurt Daphne, is he?"

"No," she answered almost wistfully, "but he does want you, Ginny."

I lifted my eyebrow, the fact that she'd used my first name barely fazing me. She was right; Daphne had told me as much. But what did I have in common with Pansy and Astoria?

Vaguely I could hear her speaking to me, perhaps rationalising her own thought process. But I couldn't concentrate on that. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I had the answer. It was there, hidden beneath the abuse and the humiliation and the frustration that I'd been experiencing for the last week. I knew this one.

It all started with Theo.

Theo. Theo.

I turned this around in my brain a little bit. What was my first reaction? I remember not believing it. They were friends. He couldn't have killed Theo. There was something wrong from the get go, I realised. From square one. I'd known this all along.

Then there was Astoria. Then there was me, then Narcissa Malfoy, now Pansy.

But not Daphne.

For some reason, she was safe. She had some kind of immunity that none of us had. What made her different? What made her…

My throat started to dry out. I could feel my skin becoming clammy and my heart starting to pound against my ribcage.

It all made sense. In a single moment of clarity, I realised what all five of us had in common.

His friend.

His girlfriends.

His mother.

"Weasley!"

Pansy's voice broke through my reverie. I looked up at her, my eyes wide.

"Ginny?" she asked, the barest hint of confusion – maybe even concern – evident in that single word. "Ginny, what is it?"

My eyes were blinking. It almost felt like my body and my mind had separated. I wanted to speak, but somehow I couldn't form the words. At least not the ones I wanted to say.

"He – he's innocent, Pansy,'' I managed. "He didn't kill him. I _knew_he couldn't have done it, but now I'm sure."

"You're babbling."

"I'm sorry. I just – I know."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's Draco, Pansy."

She looked at me quizzically, her eyebrows rising towards her hairline as her black eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

I swallowed, my heart choking me. "Does Marcus have a reason to hate Draco?"

Suddenly, there was the tiniest hint of amusement in Pansy's eyes, and her eyebrow twitched upward, entertained by my question. "Love, you've met Draco, haven't you? Do you really need a reason to dislike him?"

My cheeks flushed at that, burning with memories that spanned over the last several years. "You were his girlfriend though, yeah?" I asked. "When we went to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she answered. "We were close, but that doesn't mean…"

"Pansy," I interrupted. "Why did you tell me to talk to Blaise?"

"Because he's a friend, Weasley," she responded coldly. "Where are you going with this?"

I shook my head, subconsciously trying to force my scattered thoughts to gain some semblance of order. "You were his girlfriend, and so was Astoria," I said. "Theo was his friend, Narcissa is his mother, and I, well, we had a thing…" I flushed slightly, but recovered quickly. "Marcus is attacking the people Draco has or has had relationships with, don't you see that? Blaise tried to warn me. He told me to stay away from Marcus. He must have known that my history with Draco would be dangerous!"

A series of expressions crossed her face. It was obvious she was mulling over the possibilities in her head, considering what I was saying and whether or not it actually made sense. Finally, she settled on sceptical – or perhaps accusatory. Hard to tell with her.

"All right," Pansy said, her eyes narrowing. "Now you tell _me_the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"Marcus's interest in you."

"I told you! Draco –"

"Right," she snapped. "Draco. I know about your history with him, Weasley. I'm not stupid. But I also know that you weren't on Marcus's mind in the slightest until recently." Her eyes became fierce. "What – are – you – not – telling – me?"

Oh, that.

I started to feel a bit overheated and I began to pull at the fabric of my dress, trying to get some of the cool air against my hot skin. "I told you that I saw Draco that one time, but… but I've seen him other times, too." I said that last bit very quickly, as though the words themselves were acid on my tongue.

Her eyes doubled in size. "When?"

My eyes drifted shut. "Well – I saw him when Marcus had me in that alley. And when he came to my flat –"

"Draco was at your _flat_?"

"Only because I called him with my Patronus! Marcus – he was there. He wanted to hurt me, and I didn't know who else to call!"

Pansy was quiet for a long moment. "But – but he came when you asked for help?"

"Yes."

A small, almost sad smile graced her lips. "Who'd have thought? Draco Malfoy – what a prince."

The memory of being tied to a bedpost came back, unbidden. "I don't know if I'd go that far…"

Her amusement remained. "Draco… he doesn't really do the saving thing, love. He doesn't care about the women he shags. That's why I couldn't stand to be with him after we left school. I realised he would never care about anybody but himself, and maybe his mother, and I couldn't deal with that." She seemed a bit uncomfortable at her confession. "But he's different with you," she added, her tone almost bitter.

I raised my eyebrow, almost wanting to laugh at the fact that the way Draco treated me was actually better than his standard treatment of women.

She smiled sadly at me when I looked up after a moment. It dawned on me that we'd come to an understanding. She knew how much Draco meant to me, even if I pretended that I felt nothing for him, and I knew how alone she was.

"I think we'd better get home," I said. "I don't think I can deal with this shit anymore tonight."

Pansy nodded in agreement. "I don't think I can deal with this anymore, ever."

* * *

When I Flooed into my flat, I felt cold. An unbidden feeling that something was wrong washed over me, and immediately I drew my wand as I walked further in. I prayed silently that Marcus had not found a way to get past my newly enhanced wards. My heart couldn't handle another confrontation with that monster tonight.

And then I heard a rustle from the corner. In a split second, I turned, my wand fixed on the corner where I knew the sound had come from.

"I know you're here," I said, my voice fierce and strong for once, despite the fact that my heart was racing and my palms were becoming clammy. Deep down, I was frightened, but I'd had enough of men intimidating me. I wasn't going to let it happen again. I was not going to give up the control this time. "Show yourself."

I waited for what felt like hours, though I knew it could not have been more than a few moments. My eyes narrowed as my gaze and my wand arm remained achingly still, fixed on my target. I gasped as I saw the gentle swirl of the invisibility cloak before it fell to the ground.

I gasped. "What the fuck, Malfoy?" I exclaimed, turning around and running my hands over my face in a silent gesture of relief. Though Draco was definitely not my favourite person and I did not want him around me, I did feel much better knowing that I wasn't in danger. "I thought you were Marcus!"

Angry and spent, I turned to my kitchen, opening cupboards and pulling out a champagne flute and a chilled bottle of cheap white wine. I needed a drink. I needed a nap. I needed to calm myself down, I realised reluctantly.

After my glass was filled and I took a large gulp, I immediately refilled my glass. Then I turned around and eyed the blond man who was standing very still against the wall in the corner of my sitting room. There was something different about him. He looked almost as tired as I felt. Beat up, cold, hungry.

The words escaped my lips before I could stop them. "Want me to make you something to eat?" I asked. Then I lifted my bottle of wine. "Drink?"

He swallowed visibly. "Both. Please."

I nodded and set to work, grabbing another glass out of the cupboard and filling it before heating the  
oven and scrounging for food, only to find myself seriously lacking in that department. I decided to make him some bacon and eggs because – well –that's pretty much what I had besides some spoilt milk, stale bread, and mouldy cheese.

My heart rate began to increase, and I knew he was behind me. His hands were on my hips, and I froze in place, my eyes closing as my entire body warmed to his touch. I couldn't understand why his proximity made my entire body crazy, but it did. Every time.

"Ginny," he whispered in my ear. "Let me make this. Why don't you sit down and have your wine?"

I gasped and nodded briskly before turning to take my seat, anxious to get away from him so that I could settle myself down. I sat, hypnotised, as Draco cooked himself dinner. I'd never seen him do anything domestic, and it was almost refreshing. The wine tasted heavenly despite its extremely low quality, and I felt my body temperature rise another ten degrees. For the first time since I'd started working on this case, I didn't just feel safe, but I felt at ease.

A few moments passed before Draco sat down beside me, placing two plates on the table. I was pleasantly surprised, as I'd not expected him to serve me. But I was famished and grateful, and I smiled at him appreciatively. He returned my gesture with a raise of his glass, and I followed suit.

We ate in silence. My mind was reeling. I had no idea what was happening to me. I had no idea why Draco Malfoy was back in my apartment or why he was making me eggs. I had no idea why I hadn't acted on my urge to punch him for what he'd done to me. But I barely moved because, in a moment of clarity, I realised that the cold man who'd tied me to my bed and played with my emotions like it was some kind of cruel game was trying to be civil with me. On some level, I was able to look past our recent history for the time being, and I remained calm. And I was bloody curious as to what had changed in just over a day.

I looked up when I heard his fork clink against his plate. He'd eaten his bacon and eggs in record time and was looking at me expectantly. Though I was nowhere near done with my food, I set down my fork and took a swig of courage before crossing my arms over my chest. "Why are you here, Draco?" I asked.

He looked at me for a moment, probably calculating the most effective way to tell me what he wanted from me. His lips pursed momentarily before he closed his eyes.

"Well?" I prompted.

His grey eyes met my brown ones. It was the most sincere look that I'd ever seen on him, and it made my heart skip a beat.

"Ginny…" he began.

The sound of my name on his lips made me breathless.

"I need your help."

For a split second, I thought I'd misheard him. But then I realised I hadn't, and I contemplated that statement.

And I couldn't help it. My uncontrollable laughter bubbled over, and I nearly fell out of my chair.


	9. Chapter 9

I couldn't contain my laughter. My fit of giggles erupted and I fell out of my chair, crashing to the floor on my side in a heap of tired limbs. My breaths were shallow and laboured, and suddenly I couldn't see straight. In all honesty, it wasn't _that_ funny, but after the day I'd had, I just couldn't keep myself under control.

Draco, however, did not laugh at all. He cleared his throat loudly as he continued to look in the direction that I had previously been in until I'd fallen. Obviously he was waiting for me to calm myself down and get back into my chair. It seemed like he wasn't really seeing the humour that I was.

For no reason other than to be contrary, I switched seats. Rather than sitting directly across the table where his eyes were fixed, I took the seat beside him, taking in a few short breaths in order to settle myself. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, regarding him much more seriously after previously laughing in his face. "I just never thought I'd hear those words come from your mouth."

Calmly, he raised an eyebrow, as if contemplating whether or not he thought that I was settled enough to be spoken to rationally. But then he sighed and shook his head, obviously wanting to get to the point sometime before dawn. "I need you to help me track someone down," he said evenly. "You've currently got more resources than I do, what with you shagging your ex-husband and all. It's not really likely that if I walked into the Ministry they'd hand me over any names and addresses."

I stared at him shamelessly. The man had no idea how to be tactful or mature in the slightest. "Well, since you asked so _nicely_, Malfoy, of course I'll help you," I answered caustically. I was proud of myself for not rising to the bait and addressing his comment about my relationship with Harry.

He rolled his eyes. "Could you be more sarcastic?"

"If I tried really hard, maybe." I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed heavily. "Come on, Malfoy. If you think, after all you've done to me, that I'm going to help you, no questions asked, you're even thicker than I thought."

For a brief moment, his eyes narrowed at me. I refused to back down, knowing full well that he was trying to intimidate me. But I would not let him manipulate me again. Not this time. Not after the last time I'd tried to be nice and ended up with rope burns on my wrist. Not after the bloody night I'd already had.

He exhaled, his expression softening. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, first off, I want to know what's in it for me, Draco, after all that you put me through!" I sighed, feeling proud of myself for holding my ground.

Draco's face remained neutral. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know about this case."

I narrowed my eyes. "I know a lot about what's going on, believe it or not."

"I believe it. You're not stupid." He shifted uncomfortably, probably realising that he'd inadvertently said something complimentary about me.

His honest admission made me feel warm and brave. I went on, deciding that now was the time for us to talk about what was really going on, whether he wanted to or not. "Why is Marcus out to get you?" I asked.

His face gave nothing away. "What do you mean by that?"

I sighed again, knowing full well that he was playing dumb so that I'd show mine before he showed his. Always the bloody conniving Slytherin. "Marcus is going after the people you care about. Your friend, your ex-girlfriends, your mother. He is hurting you by hurting them. Why?"

Once more, his grey eyes locked with mine. I held his gaze, seeing something in him that both fascinated and puzzled me. Despite the compartmentalising of his emotions, despite the steeliness of his expressions, his eyes could still give him away always. I could sense his inner struggle and his wariness of admitting to me that I didn't need him to fill in the gaps. He didn't like being figured out, and he certainly did not like asking for help, but the fact that I didn't play his game did something strange to him.

Because I refused to play his game, he respected me for the first time.

"If I promise to tell you eventually, can we drop this for now?"

"Not a chance."

Draco sighed. "Listen, Weasley. I need to find someone who can help me to prove that I didn't murder Theo. If I find them, I'll let you bring me in to your precious husband. I'll have proof that I'm innocent, and… you can have your money. We'll both win, and I am telling you now that soon enough this will all make sense." His eyes looked strangely pleading. "Please. Don't make me talk about this right now."

I closed my eyes briefly as a strange feeling washed over me. I felt proud of myself for figuring out what was going on, but I also felt worse for being right. There was something much deeper going on here, something that was really hurting him, and I cared about him too much to not let it bother me. As much as I thought that Draco deserved to be put in his place from time to time, he didn't deserve this, and neither did the people who were being hurt and killed by Marcus as a result. I felt a heavy pang in my chest as I remembered how weak Mrs Malfoy looked, how broken Daphne was, how scared Pansy was.

How petrified I was that Marcus would get me, too.

"Why does he want to hurt you, Draco?" I asked as gently as I could. I had no intention of backing down. I needed to know. This wasn't just about him anymore.

"Ginny…"

My heart ached at the sound of my name. His voice was pleading. He was pleading with me not to go there, to let it go for now. But I couldn't. I couldn't make myself stay away, and I couldn't trust him to be honest with me later. I had to know what was going on if I was going to help and put my life back at risk, even more than it already was. I had to know. I had to.

"Draco, you have to tell me," I said. "No one deserves this, and I want to help, but I won't unless you're honest with me."

"I've never been honest with you, Ginny."

For some reason, that statement hurt me more than anything else he'd ever said or done to me. There were so many things that I knew he'd lied to me about, so many times that I knew I shouldn't have trusted him. But I always thought that some part of him really cared about me, wanted me. Now I knew the truth.

I swallowed hard. "Well, there's never been a better time to start."

Draco looked at me, his grey eyes set and determined. He closed his eyes briefly before speaking. "I was a Death Eater."

This admission took me by surprise. "I – I know that."

"Do you?" he asked pointedly. "When you finished school and we met again, I had you from the moment I looked at you. You forgot everything that you'd known about me, forgot what I'd done and who I'd wronged. You forgot that I'd tortured you, hurt practically every member of your family. It didn't matter because I made you feel special."

"Why are you trying to hurt me?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "I'm not – I don't want to. I just need you to understand who I was – who I am, Ginny."

I shook my head. "That's not you anymore. You're an Auror! You – you help people!"

A pained expression washed over him. "That's exactly the point, Weasley. I changed sides."

"I don't understand what you're trying to say, Draco," I said, frustrated. "Either speak clearly or stuff it and leave, without my help."

Another deep breath. "Marcus was a Death Eater, too," he went on.

I nodded. "And then?"

"And then the war ended."

"And you weren't like him anymore?"

"I went on to be an Auror," he said, sighing and rubbing his hands over his face, as though this admission was poisonous to him. "I wanted to be better than I was. I didn't want to be like… like my father, like my Aunt Bella. I didn't want to be stuck in those ideals about blood purity and how we were better than Muggles. I wanted to grow up and live in this world like everyone else, without being cast aside for being a part of something that I didn't really believe in anymore. Those things weren't important. People dying, people getting hurt... nobody deserves that. Nobody. Maybe – maybe a part of me used to think that killing people over their blood was some worthwhile cause, but then when I was told to take a life… I couldn't do it."

My heart practically stopped beating. I kept quiet, my eyes locked with his. He had never been this open with me, ever, and I wasn't about to ruin that by saying something to upset him.

"So I went to the Academy," Draco continued, "and Marcus didn't like that. He told me I was forgetting my roots and that I'd be wise to remember where I came from. He…"

Draco trailed off.

"He, what, Draco?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, the man beside me could no longer look me in the eye. His gaze turned down to his left forearm. "I saw him the night before I left for school." Draco's voice was quiet. "It was the night we..."

I swallowed. "I remember."

"He cornered me and showed me my arm." Slowly, he pulled at the buttons on his sleeves before rolling it up to his elbow. "He showed me that I have this scar, just like everyone else who served the Dark Lord. He told me that I'm no better than him and that I'd do well to remember that."

With morbid fascination, I kept my eyes glued to his forearm. His perfectly white skin was marred with the remnants of the Dark Mark. It was ugly, but it was the only imperfection on him. I don't know how I never noticed it before. Tentatively – not knowing how he'd feel about it – I brought my fingertips to his scar, my fingers tracing over it tenderly. I had no idea if it hurt or if it felt like nothing at all, but I didn't want to take the chance. My fingers slid back and forth over the healed skin until his right hand grasped my wrist firmly.

"Don't," he said softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Please don't touch me there."

"Does it hurt you?"

"No. No, I can hardly feel it at all. It's numb. I just – you… you shouldn't have to see this or touch it." He hastily began rolling down his sleeve. "It's despicable, and you shouldn't have to…"

"It's horrible," I interrupted, my fingertips freezing in place along the line of the scar. "It's ugly and it's horrible, and it stands for something that I hate." Slowly, I eased my fingertips downward and laced my fingers with his. "But it also shows how far you've come. Most people who have this still believe in it, like Marcus. You're so much better than him, Draco Malfoy, and that is why he hates you. Because you really are better."

Our eyes met, locking with each other's for an extremely long moment. I felt like I was going to explode. For the first time since I had known him, Draco had opened up to me. He was honest about something, and he showed me his vulnerability. It was endearing, and it broke my heart to know that, deep down, he hated himself just a little bit.

"Ginny, I don't know what to say to you," he said quietly, his eyes locking with mine again.

I got the impression that he was not only talking about what I'd just said, but rather everything that transpired between us over the years. We had been through a lot, I realised, but all of it was over and done with. From this moment, he and I could start fresh.

"You don't have to say anything to me," I answered.

"Ginny…"

There it was again. My name on his lips. It made me fall apart.

I swallowed. "I will help you, Draco."

For some reason, this seemed to take him by surprise, like he'd forgotten why he was in my flat to begin with. He nodded briskly, gently removing his hand from mine. "Right. Thank you."

Forcing myself to look away from those grey eyes, I glanced to the clock. It was past midnight. I knew there was still more that he wasn't telling me. There was something in his permanent record that he didn't want me to see, and I knew that at some point I'd have to question him about it. But it was late, and I had to turn in or else I'd never be able to go to work tomorrow. I stood up, stretching my arms high above my head, my shirt rising up my abdomen slightly.

His eyes were on me, and quickly he stood. "I guess I should be going then."

I watched him turn and head towards the door, and before I could help myself, I was speaking. "No. Wait."

He turned to look at me. "Everything all right?"

"It's late," I said. "You – uh – you can stay here tonight, if you want to. You can sleep on the couch, or I could. It doesn't matter."

It looked like he was mulling over the idea in his head.

"Never mind," I said quickly, concerned about what his hesitation meant. "I shouldn't have offered."

"We could both take the bed, you know," Draco suggested, smirking. "I promise to behave myself."

My face flushed and my whole body temperature increased by about ten degrees. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"You don't trust me?" There was a hint of amusement in his eyes and a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I flushed even deeper. "I, erm, I have to work in the morning."

He looked at me for a moment, considering my statement. "Well," Draco answered calmly, "I think the gentlemanly thing to do would be to allow the lady to sleep in the bed. I'm sure the settee will be fine for me."

I nodded before heading back towards my bedroom, allowing him the privacy of getting ready for bed.

"Thanks for the talk, Weasley," he said, just as I went to open my bedroom door.

When I turned around, he was standing only inches from me. My breath caught in my throat at the smouldering look in his eyes. Like a predator hunting his prey. I could see his eyes travelling down me, from my eyes to my lips to my shoulders to my chest, and all the while my heart was beating against my ribcage so fiercely that I was certain he could hear it.

"I could thank you properly." His grey eyes had turned almost black with lusting, wanting.

It took me a moment to calm myself, but I swallowed and took a breath, all the while knowing that his eyes were on me, calculating my response, reading me. This was the Draco I knew.

I swallowed again. "Goodnight, Draco," I whispered, turning and going through my door before he had a chance to respond, pushing my back up against the door. I sighed with relief when I heard his retreating footsteps.

What was he doing to me?

* * *

The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. It was odd; I couldn't remember the last time I had slept so well, and I had no idea why, for the first time in a long time, I didn't want to immediately fall back into my bed and remain there for a week.

Instead, I got up, wrapped myself in my dressing gown, and headed to the adjoining bathroom to take a shower. I washed my hair beneath the hot water, and that heat soothed all of the tenderness and the stiffness in my aching muscles. It felt glorious, and I never wanted to get out. I milked my shower time, giving me an extra ten minutes to think, to relax, to prepare myself for the day.

Finally, I could find no other reason to remain indisposed, so I hopped out and wrapped myself in a fluffy red towel. I dried my hair with my wand as I looked in the mirror.

And then it all came back to me.

I noticed the prominent red marks around my neck, the nail marks that had been embedded into my shoulders. I'd seen Marcus again.

Marcus. Pansy. Daphne.

_Draco__._

How could I forget him? How could I have slept so well, knowing that the object of my frustrations, desires, lust, and all other manner of assorted emotions for the last nine years was sleeping only one room away?

I sighed heavily as it occurred to me that he was the reason why I _did _feel safe. I had someone in my flat who wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt me, even if it was only for selfish reasons that he was at all concerned about my wellbeing. Draco Malfoy needed me – needed my help – and so I knew that, as long as he was in the next room, I was safe from Marcus. I was safe from everybody.

Quickly, I ran back to my bedroom, pulling some clothes out for the day and dressing myself. I didn't pay much attention because I figured it didn't matter much. I did have to go into the Ministry, but only to see my brother and Pansy to find out which cases needed working. It was part of our arrangement that I remain somewhat useful to the department.

When I exited my bedroom and entered the hallway that led to my sitting room and kitchen, I was greeted with the pleasant smell of fresh coffee and freshly baked pastry and the sound of something sizzling in a frying pan. Pleased and utterly confused, I rounded the corner of the hallway to discover Draco standing at the stove, frying up some eggs and bacon. There were two plates set beside him on the counter, each with a little bit of fresh fruit, a muffin, and an empty space, which was presumably for the food that he was in the process of cooking.

"Good morning, Draco," I said, my voice sounding a little hoarse.

He turned and nodded to me in acknowledgement. "Hello, Ginny."

I walked round the table to stand beside him, eyeing the assortment of breakfast foods with speculation. "I don't remember having all of this food in my pantry."

"You didn't," he answered, not missing a beat as he flipped over the food in the frying pan. "I discarded all of your expired goods, by the way, and restocked with more non-perishable items since you can't seem to be bothered checking dates on your produce and milk."

My eyebrows shot into my hairline. "You went to the store? You stocked my pantry?"

Draco gave off an inelegant snort. "Please, Weasley. A wanted felon can't very well walk into a deli and order fresh pumpkin juice, can he?" He shrugged. "I sent Goyle."

"Goyle?" My voice rose a full octave.

"Yes, Goyle. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your owl, by the way. I wasn't sure if there were any sort of traces on your Floo, and I had to contact him so that he knew I was at a different address." He plated the eggs and bacon. "Coffee is fresh, by the way." He took his plate and sat down at the table, not bothering to wait for me before he began eating.

I shook my head – wondering briefly if Draco had always been quite so bizarre – before grabbing the second plate and taking a seat beside him. I smiled to myself at the fact that Goyle went shopping to fill my pantry, remembering that the first time I'd seen Draco at his flat in Wiltshire was as a result of Goyle's delivery service.

We ate in a relatively comfortable silence, and it wasn't until after Draco had inhaled his food and set down his fork beside his plate that there was any sound at all. I could feel him staring at me, waiting for me to speak, to say something about our conversation the night before. There was the slightest hint of trepidation resonating from him; I could feel it.

"So," I began, nibbling on a piece of bacon, "did you sleep well?"

"I did, actually. Your settee was rather comfortable."

"Good. I'm glad."

Awkward silence. I hated the awkward silence.

"Well," I said after another moment, "I have to head down to the Ministry to speak with my brother."

"About what?" Draco asked automatically, his posture tensing significantly. He didn't say as much, but I knew he was concerned that my plan was to out his whereabouts.

"Relax, will you? I am responsible for more fugitives than just you." I noticed immediately that he was still eyeing me with unease. "I'm not going to tell him anything about you or anything you said, Draco. Do you honestly think I'd purposely get myself in trouble?"

He shook his head, his eyes not quite meeting mine.

I hated the way he was acting so strangely. This wasn't the Draco that I knew, the one who I argued with regularly and traded barbs with and had shared passionate, furious kisses with in the past. He was almost submissive, slightly broken, and I didn't know what to do with him. "Talk to me," I whispered, my hand reaching across the table to give his a light squeeze. "Please."

"Ginny…" he breathed, his grey eyes finally locking onto mine. He ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. "Ginny, you don't understand what happened between us last night."

"We talked. I get that."

"No. We didn't just talk, Ginny." He stared at me for a long time. "I told you things that I've never told anybody."

I swallowed. "I appreciate that."

"I don't care if you do," he answered immediately. "I don't care how you feel about the fact that I opened up to you." Another pause, this time his eyes were pleading. "But I do care how you feel about what I said."

My heart clenched. "Why – why does it matter what I think?"

"Because, Ginny, right now, you're the only person I can trust." Though he was very solemn in his words and his expression was completely even, I knew that he meant every word that he had just said, and I could tell that he was almost anxious to know what I felt in return.

In that moment, I thought my heart was going to explode. How was I supposed to respond to that? How was I supposed to know what the right thing to say was? I sighed. "I don't – I'm not sure how I feel. I spent an awful long time pretending that I hated you and that I couldn't care less about you or your feelings. And to find out that you, of all people, actually feel some kind of insecurity about their past… Draco, I don't know what you're hoping for or what you're searching for. But I do know that I feel safe when you're around. And I wouldn't feel safe around you if I didn't trust you with my life." I swallowed. "So, I suppose that's how I feel about last night."

For several moments, nothing was said and neither of us moved. But it was unlike the awkward silence that we'd shared a few moments earlier. I felt comfortable – at home, at ease.

"I'll see you later on, all right?" I stood from the table and brought my plate to the sink. "Maybe I'll pop home and make us lunch?"

I was at the door when I felt his hand on my wrist, the ever-so-gentle pull of his hand, stopping me from leaving just yet. I turned to him. His eyes were on me, searching me, studying me as if he didn't recognise me. I opened my mouth to speak, but I never got the chance to.

His lips brushed mine so lightly that I almost suspected the kiss wasn't real. His hand brushed through my hair while his other thumb grazed my cheek. It felt so good to be near him like this, so tender and sweet. It had never been like that with Draco before, but it was then, and I never wanted it to stop.

"See you soon," he whispered, kissing me once more.

I was almost to the Ministry by the time the tingling on my lips finally subsided.


	10. Chapter 10

I sat down in the office at the Auror office at the Ministry, my fingertips still gently brushed against my lips, totally unsure of what I was going to say to my brother when he came out of his meeting. Obviously I could not tell him that I'd had contact with Draco because that would not only be betrayal on my part, but it would also get me in serious trouble if anyone found out that he was staying with me. Add that to the fact that he had _kissed_ me for seemingly no malicious reason – though it was possible I was just unable to see the malicious intent - maked me want to die a thousand happy deaths. Over Draco Malfoy, my arse.

"Did you get home all right?"

Glancing up, I noticed that Pansy had come back into the room, smartly dressed in a black pantsuit and black robes. She looked prettier today than normal, I thought. More confident perhaps.

"I thought about calling your Floo, but I thought you'd probably go to bed right away," she added when I did not answer.

I swallowed. I couldn't very well tell her that Draco had come over and cooked me an omelette, could I? Or maybe I could. After all, she already knew that I had been in contact with him, that he'd come to my flat when Marcus had stalked me. But I also didn't know if it was a good idea to bring her anymore into my situation than she needed to be. The last thing I wanted was to cause more trouble for her.

"Yeah, I just went straight to bed," I said, my throat dry. I immediately felt guilty for the lie.

She nodded and took a seat at her desk. "So did I." Her facial expression was brimming with relief, as though she half expected that she would not have been able to go home and go to bed.

We sat in silence for a moment. It was awkward for me, having lied to the girl who saved my life the night before. I thought about confessing that Draco had been there – telling her everything about the omelettes, the kisses, and Gregory Goyle's delivery service – but my voice seemed to disappear once the door to my brother's office finally opened.

"Well, I'm as anxious to catch the bastard as anyone, but she insists she's got it under control," Ron said as he entered the outer office.

Somehow, I just knew that he was talking about me, and I suddenly became very curious as to with whom he was having a meeting. But as soon as I looked up, I regretted it.

Harry.

His eyes locked with mine for a second before he looked back at Ron. Harry didn't look surprised to see me, but he did appear to be a bit hurt by the look on my face.

"Oh, Ginny!" Ron said excitedly – or perhaps anxiously. "I didn't realise you were here."

I cleared my throat. "Yes, well, I'm supposed to meet with you and give progress, aren't I?" I stared pointedly at my ex-husband. "Although, if this isn't a great time, I can go."

Harry cleared his throat. "Actually, Ginny, would you mind having a word with me?"

Somehow, I got the feeling that Ron was well aware of the fact that I was going to be there, and it wasn't coincidence at all that Harry was there at the same time.

"Well, I really ought to talk to Ron first, shouldn't I? I mean, he's probably got things to do."

"No, actually," Ron interjected rather cheerfully. "I have a pretty uneventful morning coming up. You two can use my office. I'm going to run to the loo."

I rolled my eyes as my brother ran off towards the toilets and grudgingly began walking into his office. So much for a progress report.

Harry followed me in and shut the door. I was reasonably sure that I heard him utter a locking charm, which frightened me for a moment, but then I remembered who I was talking to. It was just Harry. As much as I did not really want to talk to him, I could never feel unsafe around him. He'd die protecting me before he ever thought about laying an unwelcome hand on me.

"So, how are things going with your Malfoy investigation?" Harry asked after only a second of silence, immediately cutting to the chase.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "I have a few ideas," I answered tartly, immediately feeling like this conversation had already gone stale.

He nodded, apparently not noticing my irritation. "Well, I just thought that maybe I could help." His body language was awkward as he began to fidget slightly, rocking from foot to foot. "I didn't know if you could use a partner… or backup. Anything you need, I can help."

With a sigh, I sat myself behind Ron's desk. "I really wish my brother would have just a little bit of faith in me, you know?"

Harry let out a large breath of obvious relief. He didn't want to have this conversation either.

"He means well," Harry offered.

"I know that. But really, Harry, I'm fine with this investigation. I have a lead on where Malfoy is." I fidgeted slightly, not really enjoying the lie. "But I still don't believe he's guilty of murder."

For a second, I thought he was going to scold me and tell me that it wasn't my place to investigate the case, but instead the corners of his lips turned up just a little bit. "You know, his permanent file is confidential. It's not really common practice to show those documents to anyone, least of all people who aren't technically in the department."

My cheeks pinked slightly as I remembered that Malfoy still had that file. I made a mental note to ask for it back as I nodded in response to Harry. "I figured as much. Too easy for it to get into the wrong hands."

"Right," he affirmed. "But I gave it to you because… well, because I know he's a git, but I also know that Draco isn't a killer, and I was hoping there was something in his past that I had overlooked that would make this nonsense make sense. I was really hoping that you would have critical eyes, or maybe just fresh ones, because frankly, I have nothing."

I blinked in surprise. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

"Ginny…"

"Yes?" I answered tensely.

"You never really got over him, did you?"

I swallowed. This wasn't something I ever wanted to discuss with Harry. I had told him about losing my virginity to Draco when we had got back together, but I told him it was nothing more than a silly lapse in judgment. And it wasn't a lie; at the time, that was all I thought it was. I thought I hated Draco. It wasn't until recently that I finally realised that that wasn't true at all. But how could I tell Harry this? We were married for years, and to admit that all of that time I had been secretly longing for his schoolyard nemesis… that would be too cruel, even for me.

"I loved you, Harry," I whispered gently. "And I think a part of me always will. But, Draco has got a piece of me that nobody can touch… and I'm sorry that it took me all of these years to figure that out." I sighed, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off me. "I think I've always just needed, I dunno... closure."

He nodded slowly. "I think that I always knew that."

My heart constricted. He didn't deserve this, and I could see in his body language that this conversation was breaking him. It had only been a few days since he'd asked me to come back to him, and now I'd just told him that I has never really his to win back.

"You were my first, you know," he said. "My first everything. So maybe that's why I'm still clinging onto you even though… even though you're clearly not interested."

"Oh, Harry, please don't." I stepped nearer to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Don't ever feel like you didn't mean the world to me. You're always going to be important – always." I pulled away, eyeing him anxiously. "But you were right when you said that you and I could never really be friends. Too much has happened between us for that. Things will always be a bit tense, but know that I'm here for you no matter what. The way I feel about you... it's irreplaceable."

He smiled at me sadly. "Me too, Gin."

The finality of our marriage resonated between us, and I think we finally reached an understanding.

We hugged once more, and just like that, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off me. I knew in that moment that I needed to stop pretending, once and for all.

* * *

I pressed my knee into the small of his back and held tightly onto the length of his long, brown ponytail as Harry quickly put the magical restraints around his wrists. After he finished, I threw myself off the struggling body of the man that we had just taken down. Sweat was trickling down the back of my neck as I watched Harry page backup with my wand.

He looked at me, smiling wryly.

"What?" I asked, failing to restrain a small smile on my lips.

"It's nothing," Harry said, shaking his head. After a moment of pacing back and forth, he purposefully took his seat beside me on the sidewalk. "It's just - you took down a man twice your size with almost no help, Gin. I'm... impressed."

Smiling a satisfactory grin, I got to my feet and began to brush the dirt off my jeans and hands. "It was a bit of a rush, wasn't it?"

"Every time."

"Is this why you enjoy being an Auror?" I asked, curious.

After a few moments of thought, Harry shook his head. "I enjoy taking down criminals. Don't get me wrong. But it's almost depressing after a while. You start to feel like no matter how many felons you put away, there will always be more. I can't ever stop every evil person or save every good one because there will always be people like this who want to set fire to a school of Muggle children." He paused, biting at his bottom lip. "I suppose that's where my constant urge to protect you comes from. I've seen what's out there, and I know that I could keep you safe... as long as you're within reach."

I smiled sadly. "I get that."

"But you're obviously more than capable of taking care of yourself."

"This is true."

"And so I respect your decision to be more independent," he said with a grin. "You don't need a man to take care of you. You never have, and you never will."

"Right," I answered, forcing myself to smile brightly.

It was true. My capability to live without being taken care of was not the issue.

But as I looked to the man restrained on the ground - my first capture as a bounty hunter - I remembered the reason I was so adamant about keeping this job. It stemmed from a need for money, but it was so much bigger than that now. And every little bit of it was about one person.

"Well, I'd better get out of here before they name this a Ministry capture," Harry said, breaking the silence. "I wouldn't want to take the credit away from you. Enjoy your first pay!"

And with that, he Apparated away, leaving me behind with the Muggle-hating terrorist who was the reason I could afford to pay my rent this month.

* * *

After I had gone to Gringott's to deposit my first earnings as a bounty hunter, I began to walk home to my flat, just on the outskirts of London. I lived in a Wizarding building that was surrounded by several Muggle complexes. To them, the building appeared to be a shabby, broken down edifice with smashed windows that had not at all been properly maintained. But in truth, my building was quite nice. I was a relatively new tenant, having lived there only since my divorce, and I hadn't really made acquaintance to too many of my neighbours.

So naturally it came as a shock to me when I entered my unit to find Anabelle and Lucy - two barely legal girls who shared the apartment next door - sitting at my kitchen table with my blond roommate.

I cleared my throat and the two girls looked at me, the smiles on their made-up faces fading slowly at my glowering expression.

"Excuse me, ladies," Draco said smoothly, winking at the two tarts as he ambled my way. He had obviously deduced that I was unhappy.

Once we were out of earshot, I smacked him on the arm. "What do you think you're doing?" I asked, irritated.

He looked to the spot where he had hit me and then back up to my face, eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. "I'm entertaining your neighbours," he told me, his voice quite patronising. "I can't believe you've lived here for this long without ever meeting these two lovelies."

"Well, to tell you the truth, meeting women was not my goal," I deadpanned. "But honestly, Draco, if you're trying to find some silly bints for a good shag, couldn't you go to their place? The last thing I need is your... your..." I flushed. "Not on my furniture!"

"Really, Weasley? That's what you think they're here for?"

"Well what else would you want from them?"

"To keep an eye on you."

I cocked my head to the side, doing a double take and wondering briefly if he was serious. "Am I grounded or something?" I asked sardonically.

Draco glared at me. "No, you twit." He grabbed my arm and pulled me back towards my bedroom. "The last time I checked, Marcus had your address, Ginny. Until everything about this case is settled and that bastard is locked up in Azkaban, I'm going to make damn sure that you're safe. I at least owe you that."

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't owe me anything."

He gripped my upper arms and forced me to look up at him. "Yes, I do. It's my fault that he's going after you, so it's my duty to make sure that you're being guarded. If nothing else, Anabelle and Lucy will at least know to alert me if they've seen him. I'm not going to let him put his hands on you for as long as there's something for me to do about it."

Before I could stop myself, the words were out of my mouth. "Can't you just stay with me?"

Draco looked vaguely surprised, as though that was something he hadn't considered, or perhaps even something he was afraid of. "Ginny... I don't know if that's a good idea."

And that hurt more than anything. "But you kissed me," I blurted, once more unable to filter what was going through my head before it came out of my mouth. "I thought that you... forget it. Please. Please just forget it." I turned toward the window, my face in my hands. I was certain that my cheeks must have been the colour of my hair.

His hands were on my shoulders then. He was so close to me that I could feel the gentle brush of his chest against my shoulder blades. It was intoxicating.

Draco exhaled. "It was stupid of me to kiss you."

And just like that, I turned back on him so fast that I barely had time to register anything else. "What is that supposed to mean?"

His grey eyes looked almost pleading at me as he breathed in deeply. "It means that it shouldn't have happened. I take it back. It's gone, all right?"

He went to turn away from me, but I grasped onto his shoulders. "No! No, you do not get to do that, Draco!" I cried loudly, uncaring of the company still in my dining room. "You don't bloody get to kiss me and then make me spend all day reeling about it only to tell me to just forget it. It doesn't work like that!"

"Well, it's going to have to."

"No! Why did you do it? At least tell me that."

Draco laughed out loud. "Because it seemed like a good idea at the time." He ran his hands through his shaggy blond hair that was desperately in need of cutting. "I felt bad. I wanted to thank you for putting me up for the night. One kiss does not equal a happily ever after, Ginny."

"I know that."

"So please don't get so caught up in it."

I bit my lip. "Do you at least care about me... at all?"

He looked at me for a moment, as though calculating his response, and then sighed. "The fact that you even have to ask me that tells me a lot about you, and that's just one of the many reasons why you and I could never be together."

I bit my lip as I watched him walk away, back into the kitchen. I remained in my bedroom, sitting on the bed with my head in my hands. Vaguely, I could register the sounds of the two girls being dismissed, giggling as they walked out the door, and I could also hear the sounds of the dishes being washed in the sink.

I wrapped my arms around myself, wanting to disappear as I sank to my side in my bed. I couldn't understand at all what Draco had said to me... what did that question say about me? That I can't read his bloody mood swings? That I care if he cares? I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I was much happier that afternoon when I had taken that man down with Harry at my side. I actually felt like I had a purpose, and I wasn't being tossed around like some ragdoll, wasn't being played with.

A sudden anger surged through me, and I quickly got up and put my brown leather jacket on. I tossed my hair up into a ponytail and exited my bedroom, not bothering to cast a glance at Draco as I headed for the front door. I wasn't sure where I was planning to go, but I couldn't be at home with someone who toyed with me so much.

"You can't leave," he said quietly.

I could sense him getting closer, and I felt my entire body tense at that.

"Am I a prisoner?" I asked, not looking at him.

"No, but we have work to do."

Once again, I felt anger pulse through my system. "We have work to do?" I repeated. "How about you give me the bloody file that you stole from me!"

"It's my file."

"It doesn't matter. It was given to me, and you obviously took it for a reason." I marched up to him, arms crossed over my chest as I peered into his eyes speculatively. "What are you hiding from me?"

Something briefly flashed in his expression. "I don't owe you any explanation."

"Then maybe we should nix this whole deal, and I can just turn you in right now."

"And get yourself in trouble for aiding and abetting? Not likely."

"I was just trying to make you feel comfortable so that I could turn you in. You know, make you think I'm on your side."

"Try it, love. See where that gets you."

"It will get me tens of thousands of galleons, Draco. Tell me what you're hiding right now, or I am walking out that door and you can forget about my help."

"You act like I am trying to hurt you, Weasley." He snorted. "You really ought to learn to trust people, you know?"

I narrowed my eyes. "So should you." With a softer voice, I added, "Just tell me what is in your record. Please."

Briefly, Draco appeared uncomfortable. His eyes shifted from mine as he furtively glanced around the room. "Telling you my secret was not really a part of our agreement, love. You said you would help me find someone, and I said that then - and only then - would I let you turn me in."

My heart felt heavy. "You really don't trust me at all, do you?"

Coldly, his grey eyes remained fixed on me. "I told you this morning that you're the only person I do trust. My hesitation has nothing to do with you."

Once again, I felt my heart sink into the pit of my stomach. "Fine," I said quietly. "I'll help you find whoever you're looking for, but then you're going to the Aurors. And once you're there, I never want to see you again. I can't do this anymore."

Vaguely, I noticed a flash in his expression - disappointment perhaps? But then I realised I was probably just seeing what I wanted to see. Draco Malfoy wouldn't have cared if he never saw me again. He'd have probably been glad. Once again the thought depressed me. Here I was, standing before the man I wanted the most in the world, and I was just going to tell him goodbye because he was afraid of something - someone, maybe. I had no idea, but I did know that there was something about his reaction that unnerved me. His sweet kiss from that morning and his cold reaction to me later didn't match up.

"You know what?" I said bravely. "No."

For a second, I remained still, my eyes tracing over his eyes and his lips and his utterly kissable features. I exhaled a breath I couldn't tell I was holding and took a few steps closer to him. I launched myself into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist, instantly realising how embarrassed I'd be if he decided not to catch me. But he did. His hands were at my hips and on the small of my back, and mine were cupping his face. I couldn't remember a time when I had ever felt so close to him.

"See? I trust you, Draco," I whispered, caressing his cheek. "I trust you to catch me and I would trust you with my life. Why can't you trust me with whatever is in your past?"

His hands stilled, fingertips digging into my skin. I waited patiently for his response, knowing that he needed time to process what I said or calculate what he needed to say in return. Because that was just Draco; everything needed to be calculated. It used to bother me, but at some point during the nine years that I had been in love with him, I realised that I never wanted to change a single thing about him.

"I know why Flint is trying to hurt me."

"Tell me," I pleaded.

His hands pulled more tightly around me, pulling me closer. I released the lock of my legs on his waist and slid down his body. I was still so close to him that I could taste him, breathe him in. It still wasn't enough. My hands were gripping his upper arms, and I could feel the urgency in his touch.

"Obtaining his father was my first assignment," he said, his voice straining ever-so-slightly. "He - his father - put up a struggle. He came after me, threatened me. I had to use force. I - I killed him."

I gasped, my hand going to my mouth. Somehow, that was not something I had ever expected. I remained quiet. I could tell there was more that he wanted to say.

"When Marcus found out that it was me, I rubbed it in his face. It was stupid, but I hated Marcus so much. He told me that I would understand one day what it's like to have the most important person in my life taken from me. I guess he couldn't tell who was the most important, so he went after anyone and everyone who he thought mattered to me." He sighed. "I was an arse, Ginny, for leaving you after we slept together. I was young, and I thought I could get away with anything... I didn't think that you would feel so badly. But I'm glad that I did because now I know that he'd have come after you a hell of a lot sooner." He ran his fingertips over my cheek. "Merlin, if he had ever hurt you, I don't know what I'd have done."

My heart skipped a beat or five. Did he say what I thought he said?

"Those girls who were here... they weren't meant to be for me to have fun with. I really do think you need someone who isn't me to protect you. If Marcus sees us together it will just put you in more danger."

"But don't you understand that he already thinks that you care about me?" I said, finally breaking my silence. "You've saved me twice. It isn't going to matter if he sees us together again. He already thinks it, and that puts me in danger!"

Draco closed his eyes. "I know."

"So then why are you pushing me away?"

"Because I'm selfish, Ginny." He pushed away from me, running his hands through his hair again.

It was obvious that he was uncomfortable again, but I wasn't backing down. "I don't understand."

A half growl escaped from his throat as he pushed me hard into the wall. "When I'm this close to you, Ginny, all I want is to put my hands on you and do things to you that you could never even dream of. I want you with my entire being, and as much of a prick as I can be, I can also go the other way. I would worship you and take care of you, and a day would not go by that I wouldn't touch you. But if anything happened to you... if Marcus hurt you..."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Nothing is going to happen to me."

"It might! Don't you understand that? I can't lose you once I've had you. That day in your bedroom... it took everything I had not to sink into you and lose myself to you. I wanted you so badly."

"So then take me! Let me help you feel something again!"

"You have no idea what you're asking. If I lost you to him, I would fall apart. It's better for me to just keep my distance." His voice was suddenly so cold.

"No, I don't accept that."

And before I could think twice about what I was doing, my hands went to the buckle on his jeans. I unclasped them, freeing him from his restraints. He was already ready for me, and I was ready for him. I had been for nine years. I pulled his shirt over his head and pushed him firmly against the wall. My jeans were discarded in a second before I pressed my body into his again, my lips capturing his in a searing kiss. This time there was no restraint, no thought, no time to consider any other options. I needed to feel him, and he needed to be close to me.

He lifted me up again. Slowly he eased himself into me, pulling aside my knickers and pressing me against the wall as he moved inside me. I could see in his eyes that he was so torn between wanting to let go and to hold back, keep some kind of distance between us. But that was just his messed up way of protecting himself against getting hurt if anything ever happened to me. And I could understand that, but there was a time and a place for him to let go. And this was it.

"Draco," I cried, loving the fullness I felt with him wrapped up in me. "Draco, stop - trying - to protect - yourself - from me," I panted between thrusts, my voice breathy and almost unrecognisable.

His hips thrust into me deeply, and he held himself there for a second, gasping for air. "Ginny..."

"You can trust me," I whispered, placing my forehead against his.

He looked into my eyes before slipping out of me. In one quick motion - before I even had the chance to protest - he tugged my shirt over my head, leaving me only in my undergarments. I felt alive as he raked his eyes over me appreciatively. I'd never felt so wanted - not when I was with Harry and not the first time I had slept with Draco. Everything was a blur as he picked me up into his arms and carried me into the bedroom.

For hours, I was lost in him.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** So sorry for the long wait again! I hit a bump in the road with this one. Hopefully the plot progression in this chapter will be worth it. Reviews are appreciated! :)

* * *

My heart pounded against my ribcage as I lie awake, not sure how to process what had just happened. Draco Malfoy – the man I'd wanted more than anything for almost a decade – was in my bed, sleeping soundly as the cool light of the moon illuminated my bedroom. It was surreal. For so long, I had hated him for how he'd hurt me when I was seventeen-years-old, but now… now the thought of his hands burning into my skin pushed me to the edge and over again. He had made love to me. The thought of it alone was enough to keep me awake all night. And it actually had thus far into the early morning.

I glanced over at the clock. Three AM. I yawned as I pulled the duvet closer around me, snuggling up to the warm body beside me. I brushed against him, almost wondering if he were real. The last man I'd slept beside had been Harry, and Harry was so different from Draco. Everything. Draco's perfectly manicured fingernails, Harry's Quidditch-calloused hands, each man's own way of lighting a fire within me. My mind was ready to combust with frustrated confusion because I couldn't stop thinking about the recent nights I had spent with each man.

And then his eyes opened. Those grey eyes, piercing through the darkness, were fixed on me.

"Did I wake you?" I whispered, a chill travelling up my spine.

"I'm not sure what woke me up," he replied tiredly. "Is everything all right, Ginny?"

I wasn't really sure how to answer him. Was everything all right? I certainly felt good – satisfied, pleasantly exhausted, and sated of my pent up desires – but how could I know what a conversation between us would bring? The thought that Draco could tell me that it meant nothing crept into my mind, as did the fear that what we'd done had been simply another way for him to manipulate me. It said a lot about our relationship – or lack thereof – that after hours of being wrapped up in each other I still couldn't be sure that what we had shared had been real.

"What time is it?" he asked after another beat.

"Just past three," I said, sitting up and shifting slightly so that my back could rest against the headboard. "You should try to go back to sleep. I'm going to."

He mimicked my actions, sitting himself beside me. "To tell you the truth, between tonight and last night, this is the most rest I have gotten since my arrest."

I smiled at that, glad to be of some help. I reached out to lace my fingers with his, resting my head on his shoulder as I did. In that moment, it felt so comfortable to be near him. It felt so natural to touch him, and to my surprise, he responded in kind with a gentle squeeze of my fingers and a small smile. Perhaps my tired mind had just been wandering all along. Maybe things _could_ work out between us if a little effort was put forth.

"Draco, if I ask you something, will you promise to tell me the truth, no matter how much you don't want to talk about it?"

He raised an eyebrow. His sceptical eyes were studying me for some hint as to what I could possibly have on my mind at such an ungodly hour of the morning. "I suppose," he said, somewhat reluctantly.

I bit my lip. "What really happened to Theo?"

And just like that, our quiet, content moment was over. He released my hand as his whole body stiffened. "Are you asking me if I killed him?"

"No!"

"Then be more specific, Weasley."

I thought about it for a moment – realising that I truthfully was not sure what I wanted to know. I wanted for Draco to be innocent but to somehow be able to explain everything that happened. I wanted for him to pretend that he knew all along what to do and how to fix everything, even though I knew well enough that he'd never have asked for my help if that were the case. I wanted my mind to just be eased, but every bone in my body was aching with the desire to just understand this case, to understand what Draco was going through. Every single person I'd talked to – from the neighbours in Theo's building to Marcus to Daphne – had their own special interest, and in my heart I didn't believe that there was a single person who was completely innocent. Not even Draco.

It was time we got to the good part. I needed real answers, and I was tired of waiting for him to be ready to give them.

"I want you to tell me why he was killed and why everyone assumed that it was you who did it."

Draco laughed out loud humourlessly. "Because he was a rat," he said, almost offhandedly, as though we were discussing something as trivial as the weather. "He made a lot of enemies, even with the people who worked for him. That's why he was killed. And for all intents and purposes, I had motive, means, and opportunity. Not to mention the murder was committed with my wand. If I had been the lead Auror on this case, I'd have come to the same conclusion."

I found his disregard for the case rather frightening. "I know he is the reason your mother is so ill," I said, hoping it would spark more information from him.

He glanced at me sideways. "That's not entirely true. She was ill to begin with. His bloody potion just made her disease progress faster."

My eyes widened. "I thought Flint killed Theo because you were friends. I thought he was just going after who you cared about. If Theo wasn't your friend, then I don't understand this at all."

Draco looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I had a vested interest in Theodore being alive even without being his friend. He was the only one who could reverse the effects of the potion that he gave to my mother."

Suddenly I felt like this was all too much. "Your mother… she could have been cured?"

He sighed loudly, almost impatiently. It was abundantly clear that he had no interest in talking about any of this, and I was also rather certain that he had never intended to discuss any of this with me. "His original brew was experimental – he tried to sell it to my father when the whole Wizarding world first found out about my mother being sick. My father wanted no part of it, but Theo went behind his back and convinced Mother that it would save her life. He neglected to point out the life altering risks, and so she took it. He was so sure that nothing bad would happen, but it only took a few weeks before her mind was gone."

"So Marcus found out that Theo could have helped you?" I questioned.

"He worked for one of Theo's major potion suppliers. Marcus knew about the original and what had happened with it, and based on the ingredients and the amounts of them that Theo had purchased, he was able to deduce that Theo was creating another attempt at a cure."

My heart sank into my stomach. "But Theo was killed before it could be finished?"

Draco nodded solemnly. "Marcus had an informant in Theo's company – Victor Crenshaw. Victor confirmed Marcus's suspicions, and so Marcus tried to pay Theo off. Then Theo came to me and told me everything. That was just days before that night at his flat, and it was around that time that I realised that Marcus had been trying to take me down ever since I'd been assigned to his father."

I bit my lip. Victor Crenshaw – why did that name bother me so much? Why did it seem so familiar? Why did I feel like that name could be the key to clearing Draco of these charges? I decided to press it further.

"The informant Marcus had…"

"Victor," Draco said. "He's the man I need your help to find."

"Right," I said. "Do you have any idea where he could be?"

He shrugged. "I saw him a few months ago when he helped me move my things to that abysmal flat you found me in, and he was there the night that they lured me to Theo's flat by threatening Astoria."

Once again, my heart sank. Astoria. I'd forgotten about how much Draco cared for her.

Draco didn't seem to notice my discomfort, however, and went on. "I'm not sure if Victor had anything to do with her disappearance, but he is the only witness who could testify for me. And it's possible that he knows where Astoria is." He was quiet for a moment. "I just wish I could find her."

And further into my stomach my heart went. The fact that he spoke so wistfully about his ex-girlfriend as he was lying in my bed and Pansy's words about her certainty that Astoria was dead both contributed to the sick feeling that was coming over me. I felt guilty and angry, scared and unsure of what to say. So I kept my mouth shut. There was no proof of any of it, and the last thing I wanted to do was get Draco going about Astoria.

So I did what I could. I pushed the covers off myself and swung my right knee to the other side of his outstretched legs. As I straddled him, I brought a gentle hand up to his cheek – brushing my fingertips against the light trace of stubble that seemed to have formed overnight – and I kissed him.

His hands instinctively went to my waist as he kissed back. I could sense his desire as easily as I could detect his tiredness and frustration in the way he held me close to his body, pulling me into him and clinging on for dear life. What I could not sense was whether or not he wanted _me_ or simply just the comfort that being with me brought, whether or not his feelings for me were real or if I was just an escape.

I didn't know what it was, but his kisses and his touch suddenly felt so empty and insincere. I felt dirty, wrong, and so many other things that I hated feeling.

My realisation hit me like a bucket of ice water, and I suddenly couldn't stand being touched by him. I pulled away completely and got off the bed, immediately wrapping my dressing gown around me. I was ashamed – how easily I had forgotten, how quickly I'd let myself feel for him again. All it took were his well-crafted words and that single note of sincerity in his piercingly beautiful eyes and I was a puddle at his feet. How could I have forgotten how much he cared about Astoria and how little respect he'd had for me always? It made sense now. I was just his escape – second on his list. I'd never be the one he wanted… at least not the way I wanted him.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked, his brow furrowed.

"I think I'd better sleep on the sofa."

I shut the door behind me without waiting for a response. I couldn't bear to look at him with well of tears at the back of my eyes just begging to be released.

* * *

I never did go back to sleep.

It wasn't until five-thirty that Harry finally showed up at our regular coffee place. He sat across from me wordlessly, ready and willing to get down to business. He had to have known well enough that I'd have never called him at such an ungodly hour if I had only wanted to chit-chat. Graciously, he accepted the lukewarm coffee sitting before him and was enough of a gentleman to pretend not to notice the three empty mugs surrounding me. It was painfully obvious that I had been there for a while.

"Harry, I don't know what to do."

He nodded as he sipped his drink. "Okay," he said, knowing well enough that I would need no verbal cue to continue.

I bit my lip. "I think there's something wrong with me."

"That's nothing new, Gin."

I pretended to look affronted. "Harry Potter, are you teasing me?"

He smiled brightly.

I smiled back despite myself. Even when nothing good seemed to come of anything that I did, I was glad that Harry was still able to coax a smile out of me.

"All right, I'll bite. What do you think is wrong with you?"

"I keep… I keep letting myself get too involved in this case. The more I learn about these people, the more I feel like I need to protect Malfoy, and the realistic side of me knows that I'm not going to be able to save anyone."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I can tell you with complete certainty that Draco Malfoy can take care of himself."

"Right, I know," I said warily, not wanting to hint at all about Draco's insecurities. If I let too much on, it would have been pretty obvious that I knew more than I had been saying. "It's just that, if I don't find this evidence, no one is going to. If I bring him in without proof of his innocence, he's going to go to Azkaban without so much as a fair trial, and I won't let that happen to him – not when I know that he didn't kill or hurt anyone. And I know damn well that the Ministry has no intentions to investigate what's happened, so I will die before letting him step one foot anywhere near the Aurors."

He raised his eyebrows at me, probably half-wondering how delirious I must have been to get so defensive of Draco. "You have a lead on where Malfoy is?"

I closed my eyes, knowing well enough that I had let too much slip. Damn my lack of sleep. "I have an inkling," I said lightly, hoping that would satisfy Harry's curiosity for the moment. "But that's not exactly the point. There might be a witness who could testify to Marcus Flint being the one to kill Theo. I know Marcus did it, Harry, I just can't prove it yet."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Is the witness reliable? Is it anyone you know?"

"No," I said, shaking my head simultaneously. "I've never met this person before, although the name seems vaguely familiar. I don't even know if he'd be willing to go against Flint – Marcus is so dangerous – but I have to find him if there's any hope. I'm running out of leads here."

"Gin, I feel like I should be completely honest with you." Harry paused to sip his coffee before folding his hands over the table and leaning towards me. "Even if you find this man, and even if he agrees to speak up for Malfoy, there is no guarantee that this will acquit him. There needs to be a way to corroborate this man's story – some reason for the Wizengamot to believe that what's being said is the truth. Otherwise, the prosecution could claim that your witness is a friend, or even that you paid him to testify on Malfoy's behalf. He needs to be reliable, and beyond that, the fact that Malfoy disappeared rather than standing trial already makes him look suspicious. You need solid, substantiated evidence that is indisputable."

I bit my lip. "So this is all a waste then?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I would never want to discourage you, but I do need you to be realistic in your expectations. You'll get farther if you know exactly what you need."

I took a large swig of my coffee, emptying out my fourth mug, and then sat back to cross my arms over my chest. I felt completely disheartened. I promised Draco that I would help him, and I promised Ron that I wouldn't let him down, but most importantly, I had told myself that if I was able to put Marcus away I would be able to feel safe again. Now, the chances of that happening seemed slimmer than ever, and the real prospect of living my life in fear loomed overhead.

I shook the disparaging thoughts away. Now was not the time to think so negatively.

"So then what exactly do I need, Harry?" I asked. "The witness, obviously, but how do I prove that he's telling the truth?"

"Well, for starters, you could find someone to alibi Draco – tell the Wizengamot where Draco was the night of the murder if not in Theo's flat. Also, if you could find any other evidence – letters, notes, any kind of document – that could prove that Draco wouldn't have wanted to hurt Theo and that Marcus would have. If there's evidence to the contrary of what the Aurors believe to be true, it starts to become a question of circumstance and they'll be forced to investigate."

A bell went off in my head immediately. I did know for a fact that Draco didn't want Theo dead, and I could prove easily that Marcus had motive to hurt Draco. It would make plenty of sense for Marcus to want to frame Draco if I simply put forth the evidence about Flint's father. And of course Victor Crenshaw would be my star witness, testifying about how Theo had planned to counter the effects of the potion for Narcissa Malfoy. That would at least shed some doubt on Draco's motive for killing Theo.

Now I just needed to find Victor and everything would fall into place.

"Thanks, Harry. You've helped me so much. I don't even know if I'll be able to thank you."

Without a second of hesitation, I hopped out of my seat and went round the table to kiss Harry on the cheek. I left without any explanation. I knew Harry would probably be more amused at my actions than anything, but I just couldn't wait anymore. I had things to do. For the first time since I had begun, I felt like I was finally getting somewhere, and there was no chance in hell that I was going to let the wrong man go to prison, no matter how much I hated him at the moment.


	12. Chapter 12

After I had left Harry at the cafe, the sun had already broken through the dawn, and the air was cool and smelt of the rain that was about to fall over the city of London. Rather than finding a safe spot to Apparate home from, I decided to walk and muse over the details of the rather eventful morning I had just had. The conclusion that I had reached rather quickly was that I needed to get back to my flat and talk to Draco about his case, about what had transpired between us, and what it all meant. It was not a comfortable thought, but if we were to make any progress on the case at all, the air needed to be cleared between us.

If only my heart weren't breaking.

I desperately wanted to go home, but my chest was hurting so badly with the prospect of seeing Draco again after how I had left him early that morning. Oh, how I wanted to crawl back into bed beside him, grab his face, and kiss him so fiercely that there would be no mistaking to whom I belonged. I wanted him to tangle his hands in my hair and to pull me into his lap as his hands wandered up my legs. I would moan into his mouth and I would breathe his name over and over because it was the _only_ name I wanted to say for the rest of my life.

But my fantasy had got out of control, and even though my heart was ready and willing to admit my deepest desires and to allow myself to feel what I had been dying to feel for nine years, my brain rudely reminded me of how deluded I had become. Having sex with a man once every nine years does not a relationship make, and I was mad to think otherwise.

So I procrastinated and wasted away nearly twelve hours. I visited the Burrow for several of those – and to be fair, a chat with my mum over my current choice of career was long overdo – and I also had a lovely lunch date with Hermione and my niece, Rose, who was nearly three-years-old. Afterward, I took a Muggle bus around the city before finally going to the cemetery to see Fred, which was yet another thing I had been avoiding for some time. I even found time to window shop in Diagon Alley after the brief rainstorm had passed.

But it was going on six o'clock, and I was tired of avoiding my own home just so that I didn't have to make awkward conversation. I was a Weasley, damn it, and I needed to quit being so bloody cowardly.

The place was dark when I arrived. Quickly, I took my wand and lit the candles and lamps around the room. I could hear commotion coming from my bedroom, so I kicked off my shoes and padded down the hall toward the noise. I felt conscious of another noise coming from a different room in my apartment, but the sound – for whatever reason – did not strike me as pertinent to attend to. The window had likely been left open in the kitchen, so I dismissed it.

"Draco?" I called as I opened the door, noticing immediately that he was going to wear a hole in the carpet the way he was pacing. "I wasn't sure if you'd still be here," I said.

He stared at me for a moment, almost as though he had no idea to what I was referring, but then he cocked an eyebrow. "I haven't got many options, have I?"

"Right," I answered, somewhat embarrassed as I allowed myself to go further into the room. "Well, at any rate, I'm glad you're here. I was hoping that maybe we could talk."

"Why not?"

"Oh...kay," I annunciated, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Affectionately, I reached up to grab his hand and pulled him to sit down beside me. It surprised me a bit when he complied to my nonverbal request without complaint, and I took that as a positive sign that our talk would be somewhat less difficult. I went on. "I know what I did this morning was immature. I left... rather abruptly..."

He snorted. "I wouldn't say that. I would say 'bolted' or 'darted' or 'flew like a bat out of hell' before I'd call what you did 'leaving rather abruptly.'"

"Right." I bit my lip to suppress a small laugh, happy to see that he was at least engaging with me enough to quip about semantics. "I'm not exactly proud of how I left, but I was just so confused about us having slept together again." I paused and laced my fingers through his. "I need to know if what happened was because you have feelings for me, or if you just needed someone and I happened to be nearby."

Draco scoffed. "Where – where is this even bloody coming from?" He ripped his hand from mine.

I huffed indignantly. I had truly hoped that he'd come out and answer honestly without my having to coax it out of him. "I know that you still love Astoria. I'm not blind you know," I added icily.

"Ginny, get your head out of your arse, will you? Astoria is dead. I know it and so do you, and I don't feel like defending any feelings I had for my old girlfriend."

"No, we don't know if she's dead," I shot back, getting to my feet. "You say that you know she is because you're a pessimist. But I know that you love her and you hope that you'll get to be with her again. You're hoping to Merlin that she's still alive and that you can come to her rescue."

He stood up. "Well _of course_ I hope she's not dead, you silly bint. She – she was my informant. I was supposed to protect her and keep her safe, and she was supposed to help me take down Marcus. That's why she pretended to still be his girlfriend, even after he beat her nearly to death." He ran his hands through his hair in a very un-Malfoy-like gesture of nervousness as he sat back down. "I was supposed to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her, and I couldn't even do that."

I felt like a complete and utter insensitive piece of rubbish. I had been so caught up in making everything about _me_ that I had never even stopped to consider what Draco had been going through.

Without a second thought, I sat beside him and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close to me for comfort.

After several moments of silence, he began to speak again. "Marcus must have figured out at some point that she was helping me, which was why he used her as bait that night."

"I'm sorry that I tried to make you feel guilty for caring about her. And I guess I'm no better, really. I will always care about Harry, no matter how much I'd like to forget about him."

Draco stiffened in my arms and sat up, his posture as stiff as a board.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"Draco?"

His eyes were cold when he turned back to me. "Please don't act as though you're completely innocent, Weasley. You want it to seem like _my_ actions were the only questionable ones, but at the very least _I_ didn't run into the arms of my ex as soon as I couldn't handle a conversation with you."

My eyes bulged. "What are you talking about?"

"I know who you were with today. I'm not stupid."

"How do you know?"

He didn't answer again, but this time he looked away for a split second.

I could feel my skin get hot. "You – you followed me to that cafe this morning, didn't you? You didn't trust me not to turn your arse into the authorities, so you bloody stalked me all the way downtown!"

"I did not leave this building today," he answered coldly, still unable to look me directly in the eye.

"Then you had me followed!" I insisted, not missing a beat. "Who was there? Who followed me? Was this the first time you've done something like this?"

"Don't be angry with him, sweetheart," said a voice from my doorway. "It was all my idea."

I turned to find myself face-to-face with another Slytherin man, smirking at me with amusement.

I narrowed my eyes and felt my cheeks burn.

"Blaise."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," I said, my cheeks still flushed and my eyes nearly black from anger. "You've been watching me since before Draco was even arrested?"

Blaise lifted his newly poured shot off the bar counter and knocked it back with an easy grace that I had only ever seen in the possession of Slytherin men. He set the glass back down, his smirk still never having left his thin lips. "Don't be daft, love," he said, half-jokingly. "You had to have known that Draco was pulling your chain when he told you that I was dangerous. He just didn't want you to find out just how much he cares about you."

I snorted into my vodka tonic. "Draco doesn't care about me in the slightest. I'm just here to further his agenda... to help him go free. There's no one else who he's willing to risk the life of who would also be stupid enough to agree to his bloody games! I'm it. I'm all he's got left."

The Slytherin man lifted an eyebrow. "And what am I then? You don't think I've been helping him find proof that Marcus Flint is a rotten bastard all along?"

"But it's not the same," I retorted, feeling how loose the alcohol had made my tongue. "He at least respects you. You've never had sex with him."

"You sure about that?" he quipped.

I narrowed my eyes playfully as my cheeks flushed, but I chose not respond. To be honest, I didn't want to know if he was teasing or not.

"Anyway, love, it wasn't that I was constantly watching you. I was just... keeping my eyes open and making sure that you weren't being harassed."

"Until today," I amended.

"Until today," he agreed. He downed yet another shot of Firewhisky before fixing his eyes to me, looking very solemn for the first time. "You need to understand that Draco isn't like most men, sweetheart. He doesn't know how to show love and affection. He doesn't necessarily realise that that is what women want. He feels like as long as his intentions are good, that whomever he is involved with will just learn to deal with his stoicism."

"But that's ridiculous!"

"I'm aware of that." He shook his head. "I have to be honest with you, though. You're allowing yourself to become very distracted. If Draco is not acquitted, it's going to be pretty irrelevant if he has feelings for you or not." He paused, tracing his lips with his tongue very slowly, as though wondering if he should or should not continue with what he had to say. "And let's not act like you're not going to help him even if you come to find that he is a completely irredeemable arse."

I smiled at that, knowing damn well that what Blaise had said was exactly what I needed to hear.

Noticing my change in demeanor, the dark man smiled. "So," he said, "your little impromptu meeting with Potter this morning... Anything interesting?"

My teeth began chewing away at my bottom lip of their on volition. The truth was, I had learned quite a lot that day, from both Draco and Harry. From Draco, I learned that there really was a method to his madness. If he stopped being careful and allowed himself to be turned in, not only would his mother continue to wither away, but there would be no one to attest to the fact that he did not want Theodore Nott dead by any means. From Harry, I learned that even if I do everything right, there would still be no guarantee that the Wizengamot would free Draco of the charges.

From my bag, I pulled out the file folder that I had swiped from Draco's things before leaving the flat with Blaise that evening and set it on the bar between us. "I need to go through everything in here and sort out what's relevant, and then maybe I'll be able to turn those relevant pieces of information into some sort of idea of what I should do next."

He smirked at me once more and cocked his head to the side, eying me with the slightest hint of wonder, but he said nothing. Rather, Blaise began sifting through the file with me, helping me to separate the possible proof of innocence – such as the letter of apology written by Theodore Nott, assuring Draco that he would be able to produce the counter potion, as well as the affidavit stating that Draco Malfoy had, in fact, killed Flint Sr in the line of duty during an assigned apprehension – from the useless information – like the documentation of Draco's admittance into the Auror Academy and the first Daily Prophet article written about him after his induction into the department, detailing all sorts of irrelevant facts, such as how his favourite colour was, as suspected, Slytherin green. Though it was wonderful to have finally made the connection about the missing witness – Victor Crenshaw, the _son _of Elizabeth Crenshaw, who was the very first person I spoke to about Draco's case – I was utterly amazed at how much useless information the Wizarding population actually cared about knowing, and it showed as Blaise and I continued to sift through the nonsense in his file.

It was nearly ten o'clock when every last article, document, and report had been given a look over. I now knew more about Draco's career than I ever cared to know, and although I did not need to know that he had been an influential speaker on behalf of the Save the Unicorns Foundation, or that he received notice from his superiors for offering to provide housing for several women he had helped to overcome abusive situations, it was refreshing to see that his career had been a stellar one, blemished only by the nasty business with the Flints.

Which begged the question, why was the Ministry so prepared to lock him away without trial?

I shook it off as I looped my arm through Blaise's, finally ready to be escorted home. I held Draco's file under my other arm as my companion led me through the door, holding me upright as it had finally sunken in that I had had a bit too much to drink.

After walking several blocks – as it was quite obvious that neither of us were in any state for magical transportation – I looked up at him, stopping both of our footsteps in their tracks. The moon sat high in the sky. It was nearly full and bright enough to light up the dreary streets that we were walking. The light set Blaise's face aglow, brightening his eyes and making him look young and exceptionally handsome.

He ran a hand up my arm and over my shoulder blades, finally coming to rest beneath my hair, twirling a short strand at the nape of my neck. My eyes were wide as he ducked his head down to where my earlobe came to meet the line of my jaw, and they got even wider as he planted a kiss there. But then they closed softly, and suddenly I was lost with how good his lips felt against my tender skin. I allowed my hand to twist in the fabric of his shirt as my knees weakened, and for a moment, I had completely forgotten who I was or where I was or with whom I was snogging.

"No, no," I said, flattening my hand against his chest and pushing him away gently. "No, Blaise. I can't. I love him."

"I know," he said, his voice so soft that it was barely above a whisper. "I just can't help but remember when we were in school, the first time I met you. The Slug Club." He ran his fingertips over my temple and down the length of face. "You have always been exquisite."

And had I been sober at the time, I would have never made the connection.

"You and I were in the Slug Club!" I exclaimed, pushing him away so fiercely that he nearly lost his balance, although that was by no means my intent. "You were an excellent Potioneer, Blaise, why didn't we think of this before?"

He snorted drunkenly. "Care to clue me in on what you're on about?"

I found that remarkably funny, and I began laughing so hard that I had to double over at the waist and grip my knees for support. Once the fit had ended, I stood back up and grabbed Blaise's hands in my own. "He needs us to prove he's innocent, but... but unless we undo some of the damage that Marcus has done, it's already too late for him!"

"I still don't follow."

"Yes, you do," I insisted. "You're bloody brilliant. I bet that if you took the potion that Theo created to a lab, you'd be able to work out the counter-brew!"

A wave of understanding crossed his face as he slowly began to smirk. "You're saying that maybe we could..."

"Yes!" I shouted drunkenly to Blaise. "We can cure Narcissa!"

* * *

In the grand scheme of things, the hangover I had awoken with that morning had been rather mild compared with many other that I had experienced. I took a potion anyway, hopped in the shower, and left the flat as quickly as I could. The last thing I wanted to do was to see Draco after the night I had had with Blaise. I was still angry, but because of that bloody drunken snog, I felt guilty, too, about the kiss and the minor lapse in judgment. At least, on my part in was innocent. I could not speak for Blaise. That would be a conversation for another time, I decided.

I trekked to Theodore's apartment complex. Though it was early, I had an inkling that Elizabeth Crenshaw would already be awake. And if she wasn't, I found I didn't much care. I could practically feel the end of this silly case nearing. I could smell it and taste it. It wouldn't be long before I'd find Victor, and once I did, he would be Draco's ticket to freedom. I just knew it.

But as it were, the chinwag that she and I had had that morning turned out to be less than amicable. Apparently, questioning a woman in regard to her only son's whereabouts so that he could be a star witness in a trial was not something that she appreciated. I knew well enough that I could go to Harry for help and tell him that she was withholding information and she would probably get a visit from the Aurors afterward, but did I really want to go out of my way to cause trouble for a sad woman whose only purpose in life was to protect her son?

No, I decided. I would find another way.

So I tracked Blaise down at an old lab inside a former Apothecary that had long since gone out of business. Though it was rather barren in terms of materials, there was enough for Blaise to at least begin his breakdown of the components of the potion. I knew immediately once I had seen him and his furrowed brow that things were not going over well, so I offered myself up as an assistant. Barely an hour passed after I had arrived before he was ready to call it quits.

"Well, it was a good theory, Weasley," Blaise said to me as we stood over the formula we had figured for Theo's potion. "But this... this is not work for a pretty good Potioneer. This would be a challenge for Snape, for any _Alchemist_." He scratched his head thoughtfully. "I wonder how long it took Theo to develop something like this."

"No, Blaise," I insisted. "We're not giving up on this. We have to cure her."

"Love..." he began, removing the eye of newt from my hands and setting it back on the lab bench. "You really have more important work to be doing. This potion sounded like the greatest idea last night, but in all seriousness, your efforts would be better spent trying to find Victor Crenshaw."

I bit my lip, very much aware of his hand holding tightly onto mine. But he was right, of course, although I still felt like this was something that needed to be done. What good would it be for Draco to become a free man if he had no one to share his life with? It suddenly occurred to me how well thought out Marcus' plan had been. He knew long ago what I had just found out – no matter what, whether he goes to prison, remains a fugitive, or is released of all charges, Draco's life was still dented by the death and destruction at the hands of his enemy.

"Okay," I conceded. "I'll – I'll go do that. I'll go search for him."

"Good girl," he said. "But in the mean time, I'll keep looking at this bloody wreck. I can't promise that I'll get anywhere. It would be nice to have another set of eyes."

I could practically feel my eyes light up. How stupid could I have been? Of course Blaise needed another set of eyes to help him develop the counter-brew. Theo was an acclaimed Alchemist, and Blaise and I were nothing more than NEWT-level Potioneers. We needed someone brilliant, someone on the level of Professor Snape. We needed the brightest witch of our age!

I knew who we needed.

"Give me an hour, Blaise," I said, scampering away from the table like I had been lit on fire. "I only need an hour."

And I was gone before he could even say another word.

* * *

My brother, his wife, and my niece lived only a few miles outside Devon in a small Muggle neighbourhood. Though their home was connected to the Floo network and they were approved by the Ministry to practice magic within their home, they were also very in tune with Muggle technology. It was definitely an experience whenever I would go to pay them a visit, and it was wonderful for me to see the sorts of things that Hermione was exposed to as a child, but going to their home was definitely something that I wasn't always up for.

And so when I popped up on Hermione's doorstep unannounced for the second time that day, her brilliant mind knew straight away that something was bothering me.

Rose sat on the floor near her feet when my sister-in-law opened the door. "Well look at this, Rose!" Hermione exclaimed happily, though not without a knowing glint in her eye that I was probably about to ask for a favour. "It's your Aunt Ginny again!"

I laughed nervously as I stepped into the foyer.

"Dear, why don't you go up and play in your bedroom," she said to her daughter, crouching down to the small girl's eye level. "Mummy will come up to check on you in a bit, hmm?"

The toddler giggled and complied, stopping only for me to plant a kiss on her forehead as she walked by.

"You didn't have to send her away, you know," I told her.

She snorted. "Yes, I did. She may not know what we're talking about, but that doesn't mean she won't repeat it to Ron." With a lift of an eyebrow she added, "And I have a feeling that you're going to be saying something that you won't want repeated."

"You know me well."

"Come. Let's sit. I'll put on a pot and then you can tell me what this is all about."

We went into the kitchen, and I sat at the table, somewhat thankful that Hermione was not immediately going to judge the situation before hearing my side of the story, as she was wont to do. And it was also a relief that I had a moment or two to think over exactly _how_ I planned to phrase my question. I knew what needed to be asked, but I still wasn't sure of the best way to approach it.

My friend sat across from me, stirring honey into her tea as she handed me my own cup – black with two spoonfuls of sugar, just as she knew I preferred – and gave me a look. Without wasting another second, Hermione asked me, "Is this about Malfoy?"

I flushed at the question, knowing well enough that I was giving a lot away with that simple reaction. It was in my best interest to be blunt, I decided. "Yes," I said.

"Have you found him?"

I bit my lip. "Promise not to tell Ron?" I asked.

Hermione glanced at me sideways, letting me know full well that she did not approve of what I was asking. But nonetheless, she nodded.

"He's at my flat. He has been staying there for a few days."

Her brown eyes nearly doubled in size. "Ginevra Molly!" she exclaimed, hand to her chest. "I can't even imagine what you are thinking! Do you know how much trouble you would get in if Ron or Harry or _anyone_ found out that he was there?"

"Yes, I know," I said, hoping that my affirmation would put a stop to her ranting. "But it's kind of a long story."

"Well, give me the abridged version if you must, but you need to explain this to me. Right now."

I took a deep breath, deciding on an appropriate place to begin my story. "It started with the night I went to talk to Daphne Greengrass because, according to the Auror report, Astoria was also at Nott's place the night of the murder. So I thought if I talked to them that they might know where Draco was."

She nodded. "Okay, I'm with you so far."

"Well, I ran into Marcus Flint, who was also at Theo's when he died. But Flint is a creep and he – he attacked me." I paused at Hermione's gasp. "And the only reason that I wasn't hurt was because Draco was there. He saw Marcus shoving me against a brick wall and trying to rip off my dress, and he saved me, Hermione."

"That's great, Ginny," she said with a note of sincerity. "I'm glad that he was there for you and that nothing serious happened to you, but that doesn't mean that he's a good guy _or_ that you should trust him. And it certainly doesn't make me feel comfortable that he's living with you."

I sighed. "That's not all, though. He saved me another time. Marcus... he found out where my flat is, and he came there."

Once again, her eyes demonstrated just how skeptical she was. "Isn't it a bit odd... how you were never bothered by Marcus Flint until you got involved with Draco?"

"Yes! That's just it! Marcus Flint... he's the one who killed Theo, not Draco. Flint's father was killed by Draco during an apprehension, and now Marcus wants to destroy Draco's life by hurting the people he loves! When Draco saved me, Marcus assumed that I was one of those people, and now I'm in danger, too."

Hermione bit her lip. "Ginny, that's a little far-fetched, isn't it?"

I shook my head. "I have proof, but there is a witness I need to find who will be able to help Draco's case even more. But you have to believe me. Draco definitely did not want Theo dead. Nott was going to cure Mrs Malfoy, and Marcus knew that."

"I'm confused," she said. "If you've got this all figured out and you already know exactly what you need, then why are you here asking for help?"

"Because Theo died before he could cure Narcissa," I said cautiously. "He created a potion that deteriorated her health, but then once he saw the effect it was having on her, he tried to brew a counter-potion. Except Marcus killed him before he could finish it, and his potion is so complicated that... that I think it's going to take the smartest witch I know to figure out how to complete it."

She formed her fingertips into a temple and pressed them into her forehead. For a few moments, she was completely silent, but then her eyes met mine, and for a brief second I was intimidated by her intensity. "All right," she said, her voice soft and steady. "I'll help you. I'm not making any promises, and I can't guarantee that I'll be successful, but I'll help you. If you promise to do something for me in return."

"Anything," I told her without a second's hesitation. "What do you want me to do?"

"You're going to turn Draco Malfoy into the Aurors, and you're going to do it now."


	13. Chapter 13

In every woman's life, there are certain moments that can either make her or break her, but beyond even that, there is that one specific instance that challenges who you are. I thought that my moment happened for me when I was seventeen. I had been abandoned by my first love after giving him my virginity in the bathroom of some swanky bar, and it was the first time I had ever really allowed myself to feel such heartbreaking pain at the hands of another person. I had built nine years of my life around that incident, had got married to a man who I had later realised was really only my second choice, and had spent all of that time with my eyes wide open, looking for a chance to make the boy who had hurt me feel as badly as he had made me feel.

But as it turns out, though the night I had had my heartbroken had definitely been a defining moment for me, it wasn't _the_ moment. It wasn't that one instance in my life where I could have lost myself. I had been upset, to be sure, but there was no chance of me spiraling out of control, of giving up everything I had ever wanted or worked for in the name of revenge. As it turns out, this was not the moment that my life sat upon a precipice, leaning towards and maybe falling into my darkest hour.

No. That moment in my life happened much later on, in my brother's kitchen, sipping on my cup of tea and looking into the eyes of a woman who was one of my very best friends. It was then, I realised, after a brief moment of contemplation, that this was it. This was when I could finally get the revenge I had thirsted for, I could cause the damage that I had craved, and I could seek solace in knowing that I had maybe even done it for the right reasons. Maybe it would even be completely justifiable. Maybe I really didn't even have a choice.

I left the Ministry the next morning with mixed emotions and a heavy heart, unable to stand the fact that I couldn't be sure of whether or not I had done the right thing. When would I know? _How_ would I know? I wasn't sure about any of it, but the fact of the matter was... I had done it. It was over with. I now had to live with my actions, and for the time being, there was nothing left for me to do but wait.

My defining moment had passed, and I had made my decision. Now all I could do is hope that it wouldn't destroy me.

I let out a breath I hadn't noticed I was holding as I leaned against a lamp post on the street corner, feeling for a second like my lungs were coming up short for air. My eyes welled with tears and I began to shake with the cold Autumn wind that had struck me just then.

_Give me one hour,_ I had told them. _Please. That's all I'll need, so long as you promise to stick to your end of the deal._

There had been an agreement, and I had left with my tail between my legs, knowing that what had just happened could change my life forever.

What had I done?

I could smell the fresh coffee as soon as I Apparated into my bedroom.

The bed had already been made, and there were clothes sitting folded at the foot of it. Draco had obviously been bored, which was understandable considering how cooped up he had been, now even more so because of the row we had had. It was sad how awkward I felt just being one room away from him.

And it was only going to get worse.

I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror that sat on the back of my closet door. My hair was still red and curly, my eyes were still brown, and I still had freckles all across the bridge of my nose that made me look indisputably Weasley. But the woman looking back at me was not the same person I had been before I marched into my brother's office two weeks ago, begging him for employment and blackmailing him into letting me have a job despite his better judgment. My skin was even whiter, my freckles more prominent. Those curly waves of crimson that made me _me_ were somehow duller in luster. I saw the beginnings of wrinkles forming around the corners of my eyes.

Who was this?

Unable to stand my reflection any longer, I quickly turned away, pulling my unruly hair into a messy bun at the back of my head. I ran my hands over my face as the feeling of vulnerability began to sink in.

_Compose yourself, Ginny_.

I knew what I had to do.

He was sitting at the table, Daily Prophet in hand. I could tell he was trying to pretend not to have seen me, but the faint movement of his eyebrows and the tightening of his grip around the pages of his newspaper were enough indication to the contrary. It was not really surprising that he wanted to ignore me, but this was the only opportunity I was going to have to say what I needed to say.

"Draco," I said, pulling the Prophet away from his face. "Can we talk?"

He rolled his eyes as he set down the paper. "This again?" he asked. "You're not planning on lecturing me for having you followed, are you? Or making me feel guilty for not wanting my friend to be dead?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Well I don't have much else to say to you, Weasley."

I cringed at the way he said my surname, like it was something derogatory. Like we were still kids at Hogwarts, trading barbs in the corridors and glaring at each other from across the Great Hall. We were way beyond that, and I certainly was not that girl anymore. I hadn't been in a long time.

I swallowed. "You don't have to say anything, but will you please listen?"

"If I must."

My bottom lip quivered. "You – you know how I feel about you, don't you?"

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at the question. "What?" he asked, not unkindly.

The quivering had become more violent, and had grown into more violent tremors that had taken over the rest of my body. "You know, d-don't you?" I asked, fighting back the tears that I was determined not to let fall. "You know that I-I'd do anything for you. That I-I love you. You know that, right?"

His hands braced my upper arms as he leaned in, eyes full of a concern that I wasn't even sure that he was capable of until then. His thumb caressed my cheek. "You're shaking, Ginny," he said, his voice steady. "You need to take deep breaths, okay? Deep breaths."

I complied, slowly breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth on his commands. His strong and soothing hold on me never wavered, and his grey eyes – for once so empathetic and warm – never looked away from me.

"I know," he whispered after I had calmed considerably. "I know how you feel about me."

"And you trust me?" I asked meekly. "You trust me to – to – to act only in your best interest?"

"Of course," he said without question.

I could feel my breathing quicken and my heart beat so fast that I thought it might come barreling out of my chest. My words came out of my mouth with equal vigor in a nearly incoherent slur. "And – and no matter what h-happens next, just – just promise me that – that you'll remember this. You – you'll think about w-what you said to – to me. You w – won't hate me because... because you t-trust me, and – and you know that I - I would never h-hurt you."

He pulled me against his chest, his lips pressed into my forehead. "Please," he whispered, his hands rubbing up and down my arms soothingly. "I can barely understand what you're saying. You need to calm down."

For the first time since I was a little girl in my father's arms, I allowed myself to fall apart completely at the mercy of another man. I let him comfort me, to hold me, to see me cry like it was the end of the world. For what felt like hours – though I knew subconsciously that that time frame could not possibly be accurate – I let go of everything I'd had welled up inside me until my tears had turned into dry heaves.

And somehow, every comforting stroke of his hand across my back and caress of my hair made me even more inconsolable. I told myself that it was because he was trained to respond to a distressed woman like this. Every Auror knows how to calm a person down. Every gesture was scripted and forced and had nothing to do with me. He would have been able to hold any crazy woman who had had a day close to him and soothe her with soft hands and a steady rhythm.

Or at least that's what I thought.

"Ginny, I don't know how to help you if I don't know the problem," he whispered into my ear. "Please just relax. I've got you."

But I just couldn't, and I could sense his whole body tensing with the realisation that I was not going to be able to speak no matter what he did.

I felt him pull back for a split second before his lips were pressed into mine, his fingers tangled in my hair, his body flush against mine. My lips parted in surprise, and he used that opportunity to explore me, to open me up to him. His hands traveled down the length of my back, pulling me onto his lap, fingertips digging into my skin with a need unparalleled by any other gesture.

My whole body had been pulled flush against him, straddling his legs on the chair, his mouth at my neck, his hands wandering all over me, taking away the feeling of numbness that had come over me up until then. I felt him, his hot breath, the even pressure of his hands, his firm muscular chest protecting me against both nothing tangible and everything emotional. He didn't know what had happened to make me lose myself in him, but it didn't matter. He was not going to let go.

We were holding on for dear life.

I broke away, my heart still pounding, but for a different reason. I could see his eyes were still filled with concern, and the way he held onto me firmly and steadily told me that he still expected me to explain myself.

"I did something awful," I said, my voice still full of emotion, but my words were considerably more coherent. "I did something awful, and I need you to forgive me."

He blinked, and for a moment said nothing. "Did you sleep with Potter again?" he asked. "Or Blaise? He told me he kissed you. Did you kill someone, or maybe you robbed Gringott's?" His words were laced with humor. "Did you pose naked for Playwizard? Or did you band together several Dark wizards to take over the world and create your own Dark Mark to identify your followers?"

I glared at him but said nothing.

"Gin," he said, kissing me once on the forehead, "there is nothing that I couldn't forgive you for."

I smiled.

He looked thoughtful. "Unless of course you told Potter where I was," he amended. "But I don't think you could ever betray anyone like that."

All of the blood drained from my face. "Right," I said weakly.

"So do you feel better now?" he asked, somewhat teasingly. "You're one of a kind, Ginny Weasley, and I lo – "

There were three sharp, concise knocks at my front door.

"Ginny Weasley, we're here to apprehend your fugitive," said a voice from the opposite side of the door. "The ability to Floo or Apparate has been temporarily disabled from this residence. Please open the door immediately or we will grant ourselves access through force."

Draco's eyes bulged from his head as he realised what I had done. After I had promised him that I would see him through to the end of his case, I had gone behind his back and turned him in to the authorities. He looked at me with such hate and disappointment that it made my chest hurt.

"We had a deal, Weasley!" he yelled. "You stupid, wretched harpy! What were you thinking?"

"Draco, I'm sorry!" I said, clinging to him. "I had to do it."

The pounding on the door continued.

"You didn't have to do anything," he insisted, pushing me off him roughly as he stood up. "You could have come to me and given me time to escape! But instead you wasted my time with all of that pathetic whinging, and now it's too late."

I shook my head. "No. I needed you to be here. I promise you, I have a plan," I whispered, grabbing onto his hands, gripping for dear life. "I'm going to take care of you! You said you trust me, remember?"

He wrenched his hands away from me so roughly that I fell forward from the sheer force of it. I was kneeling at his feet when the door to my flat came bursting open, Harry and Ron following three Hit Wizards. The first three men each gripped onto the struggling Draco, pulling him out the door as Harry began to recite his rights.

Ron put an arm around me as I got back to my feet. "You did the right thing, Gin," he said before kissing my temple and following after.

The right thing, he said.

I sure as hell hoped so.

I decided against Wizarding transportation, and instead I took the bus to Hermione's place. My head was pounding and my heart was hurting, and I needed to get myself composed before I could face her. Despite everything, I knew that she was only thinking of me when she told me to turn Draco in, but a larger part of me wondered – if Draco hated me forever – could I ever forgive her? Or maybe it was for the best. If Draco hated me for not obeying his every command, maybe I was better off without him. The uncertainty hurt worse than anything that anyone could have said or done. I just didn't know what to do.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. I knew what to do in the immediate sense, and the fact of the matter was that Draco was a distraction to me. I was so consumed with thoughts of whether or not he actually cared about me that I couldn't focus on the case. At least with him in custody I knew that he hated me, and I was completely free to do what needed to be done, and that was simply the only upside that I had to focus on.

I arrived at my stop and began walking the remaining distance to Hermione's house. I wasn't too sure what to expect when I got there. All I knew was that Blaise was with her, helping her to become at least somewhat acquainted with the potion that she was trying to counter. I almost laughed out loud at the image of Blaise and Hermione working together, especially considering the fact that it was Hermione who insisted his best friend be behind bars rather than helping to clear his own name. Or maybe Blaise would be fine with it. He was unpredictable that way.

I didn't bother knocking this time. I was too angry with her to pay her the courtesy.

She and Blaise were seated at her kitchen table, between them were all of the reports and calculations that Blaise had been able to come up with during his analysis. Hermione was sitting completely upright, her legs tucked beneath her as she read through everything carefully with her reading glasses perched at the end of her nose. Both of them appeared to be deep in thought – too busy to even notice that I had come in.

Blaise looked up for a split second as I sat in the seat directly across from him. "Ginny," he said in acknowledgment, his voice devoid of emotion. He was angry, I decided.

"Hi," I said awkwardly.

"Did Ron and Harry come?" Hermione asked, looking up suddenly and looking directly at me.

I nodded, feeling sick. "He's... Draco is gone."

Blaise stared at me through heavily lidded eyes. "I still think you should have warned him."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said, her attention turning to him. "If she had told him they were going to come, he would have run and the deal would have been off. Ginny could have got in a lot of trouble. She admitted to having known where he was for over a week! She harboured a fugitive!"

"And of course, a true Gryffindor is really only out to save her own skin, am I right?" Blaise retorted petulantly.

"How unfair of you," Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Besides, if Draco is innocent like she thinks he is, then everything should work out."

"Because everybody at the Ministry just loves Draco and is sure to actively search for ways to prove that he is innocent. It's not like he is an ex-Death Eater or anything, Granger," he added sarcastically.

"And I am supposed to feel guilty that his past decisions might actually catch up with him?" Hermione threw her reading glasses on the table in frustration. "Ginny is my sister, and I only care about keeping her out of prison, which is where she'd go if she were tried. She is undeniably guilty of aiding and abetting! And for goodness sake, my name is Weasley now!"

"Well, now she can be guilty of being a traitor, because that's all Draco is going to see _if _a decidedly mediocre bounty hunter happens to find some evidence to acquit the bloke she's been carrying a torch for for half her life. And if she can't help him, it's not like it will matter anyway."

"Hey!" I interrupted. "C'mon, you two, we need to work together."

Both of them stared at me expectantly – Blaise with a look of irritation and Hermione with a look of concern.

"You both have agreed to help," I continued. "Hermione, I did what you asked, now please stick to your end of the bargain. And Blaise, I know I'm... inexperienced, but you want to clear Draco's name just as much as I do. Squabbling and name-calling isn't going to save him!"

Wordlessly, Hermione picked her glasses back up and then began going through the reports again, but Blaise continued to glare. "I have no reason to trust you anymore," he said. "You said you loved him, but you sent him to prison!"

"I do love him," I said evenly. "But this... this was the only way. Draco was never going to find Victor Crenshaw by sitting around my flat cooking dinner, and I was too damn distracted by him to be of any use." I bit my lip. "As much as I hated having him dragged away like a criminal with me begging at his feet for forgiveness, I... I know that I did the right thing."

Blaise said nothing.

I sighed. "And the arrest... it wasn't without conditions, you know."

"Conditions?"

"Yes!" I said, frustrated. "I went to Ron first. I told him that I knew where Draco was and that I wasn't going to reveal his location unless we made a deal – one that involved giving me forty-eight hours to find our witness and then giving Draco a completely fair trial."

"And I bet you also made sure that you still got the money for his arrest, didn't you?" he hissed.

"I, uh... I actually never thought of that," I said.

He cocked his head to the side and stared at me for a few moments, perhaps wondering if I could be trusted or not. I understood where he was coming from. I had committed the ultimate betrayal, and on top of that, I was asking for someone who barely knew me to trust that I had had good intent. It was difficult to comprehend even for me, but at least I knew in my own heart how in love I was with Draco. Blaise, on the other hand, did not have that luxury. As far as he knew, I really only cared about getting the money. At least up until that point.

With a nod, Blaise returned to his notes and his quiet conversation with Hermione about the potion. It was his own way of telling me that he believed me.

I leaned back in my chair, knowing that my mind was too clouded to be able to assist with the potion analysis. I closed my eyes for the briefest of moments as I allowed myself to unwind while I considered the day I had had.

Blaise and Hermione were going to try to save Narcissa.

Harry and Ron had taken a kicking and screaming Draco to a holding cell at the Ministry pending his trial.

I had put him there.

Draco hated me.

Blaise hated me, although he maybe respected me for making a hard decision.

Hermione forced me to make that decision.

I needed to find Victor Crenshaw.

Draco hated me.

Malfoys. Weasleys. Blaise. Crenshaw.

My mind was so overloaded that I began to crash, and all around me, the world slowly faded to back as I allowed sleep to overtake me.

It had been awhile since I had had a good night's sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** This chapter has a character death warning. It is not graphic, nor is it bloody, but it is there. This will be your only warning.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, the scene happening around me at the Weasley household was a rather hectic one.

Blaise Zabini was sitting in the chair across from me, scribbling madly over a roll of parchment. Obviously, he was still working on the potion for Narcissa, and from the looks of it, he and Hermione had made somewhat of a breakthrough. Or at least the possibility of a breakthrough was around the corner. It was hard to be sure, what with me having been asleep and all.

Harry was there, too, but he was standing against the kitchen counter with a mug of tea in hand as our niece, Rose, sat happily near his feet. Our eyes met in the middle briefly, him looking on rather grimly. Obviously he knew something that I didn't. Or perhaps I did already know it, but it was one of the many things that I didn't want anyone else to know about that everyone now knew about, or else it was something I should have known and then I forgot. It was difficult to read into his expression while I was quite so groggy, but regardless, I was certain that there was something bad that I did or didn't do or did but failed to do properly because, otherwise. he would not have been looking at me like that.

But the real commotion came from the centre of the kitchen, where Ron and Hermione were heavily enveloped in a screaming match that would frighten even the most courageous of Gryffindors.

"I just can't understand this, Hermione," Ron said, his arms waving wildly to gesture about the scene around him. "How could you agree to help?"

"Did I honestly have a choice?" she answered. It was obvious that she was as equally miffed as he was, but she went about her shouting in a much more composed manner. And the daggers that she was shooting at him would have put even my mother to shame. Years spent with Molly Weasley had taught her well. "If I hadn't agreed to this, Ronald, then Draco Malfoy might still be shacking up with your sister! Is that the better of the two scenarios? Because I rather think not!"

It was then that I realised what the grim look was about.

When I had gone to them to let them in on Draco's whereabouts, I had left out many of the _minor_ details I was hoping that they need never know about. The fact that I had been keeping Draco in my flat as a living arrangement had fallen into that category, along with the deal that Hermione had made to assist in the curing of Narcissa Malfoy. The latter detail, I was certain, he had picked up after coming home from work and spotting his wife working busily alongside his Blaise, but that Draco had been living with me... I knew it had to have come from my dear old flatmate himself. I halfheartedly made a mental note to wring his scrawny neck if I ever did see him again, although being able to torture Ron and Harry was probably the only thing he had left to amuse himself with while in custody.

"Well, obviously, I don't want her living with that right git," Ron argued, "but that still doesn't explain what bloody Zabini is doing here with your old Potions notes!"

Hermione threw her hands up in obvious exasperation. "I don't know how to get this past your thick skull. _I had to help him, or else Ginny would have refused to turn Malfoy in!_" She looked about ready to strangle him. "And quit bloody blaming _me_ for all of this. If you would stop acting like Ginny is some naïve little girl still writing in Tom Riddle's diary, you might see that she actually has a plan here!"

"Right," Ron retorted. "I know she's got a plan. Last time I talked to her, her search for Malfoy had somehow included taking Pansy out to a bloody pub!"

I coughed loudly. "Excuse me!" I all but shouted. "I can actually hear everything that you two are saying."

Ron's eyes narrowed at the sound of my voice, and he turned on me as though he _hadn't_ seen me napping in one of his kitchen chairs – which was ridiculous, obviously. It would have been hard to miss the snoring witch who was drooling all over your table. "And _you_, Ginny," he said angrily. "Don't even get me started on _you_!"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. So I may have slept in the same flat as Draco Malfoy for a few nights. Big deal."

"Same flat my arse," Blaise muttered under his breath with a snort. Obviously he knew that Draco and I had slept a bit closer than just in the same flat for some of those nights.

"Ginny, it is a big deal!" Ron insisted, although somewhat calmer this time. "Malfoy could have hurt you! And with your... _history_... I'm not sure if I believe that he didn't."

My cheeks turned red. "You love throwing that in my face, don't you?"

"No, I –"

"I shagged Draco Malfoy when I was seventeen!" I yelled, temporarily forgetting that both my baby niece and my ex-husband were in the room. I could hear Blaise snigger behind my back. "I'm not seventeen anymore, though. I'm not a child, and frankly, the overprotecting older brother thing is getting to be a bit monotonous!"

I got up from the chair and approached my brother, hugging him tightly. I pulled away after a moment, holding onto his hands as we looked at each other for what felt like a long time. "So I harboured a fugitive," I said with a half-smile. "You thought I might get hurt from it, and you know what? I have some bruises. Maybe even a few scrapes, but I promise you that there is no permanent damage. I'll make it through this. I might even be better for it once everything is said and done."

He gave me one of his half-smiles that meant that he wasn't nearly as mad at me as he would have liked to have been. He was just worried that his little sister was in too deep. "I just don't trust him, Gin."

"I'm not sure you trust anyone," I countered cheekily. "But you promised me, Ron, that you'd give me the time I needed to finish this case. I... I told you about our past because I thought you could handle it. Please don't make me wish I had never confided in you."

This softened my brother up considerably. I knew well enough that he had quite the short fuse – the Weasley temper was infamous – but most of the time when Ron shouted and spouted off about betrayal and secrets, he was mostly upset that he hadn't been kept in the loop. Reminding him that I had, in fact, told him most of the details about the case _and_ details of my girlhood exploits helped him to think rationally – at least about some things. He had also made a deal with me, and he was honourable enough to want to keep it. He knew I'd never let him hear the end of it if he backed out on a promise he made to me.

His displeasure in his wife's activities, however, was a completely different story.

As they continued to argue, albeit much quieter this time, I stepped over to the counter beside Harry, who gave me an awkward half-smile before fixing me a cup of tea. I could tell he was pissed at me, too, although I knew he wouldn't dare shout at me in front of other people. It was a habit that he had developed while we were married. Around others, he might appear a bit amiss – cold, even – but he would never give off the appearance of anything less than a unified front between us. But at home, he would give me hell, and I would always dread it because it was so clear to me when it would be coming.

I smiled petulantly to myself knowing that I no longer had to go home with him and answer to his aggravation.

But of course, this wouldn't stop him from muttering under his breath at me with disapproval.

"Ginny, you're losing it," he hissed. "You could still go to prison for what you did."

I rolled my eyes. "So turn me in."

"If your boyfriend doesn't stop spouting off about it, I might not have a choice. What you did was incredibly reckless."

I rolled my eyes again. "He's angry with me and wants me to suffer. If I clear his name, he'll get over it."

Harry glared at me. "Yeah, well it might not matter anymore, Gin. Kingsley knows what you did, and unless you can prove that you had no intent to commit a felony, you might not even get a trial. Your connections can only get you so far before you have to pay some consequences."

My lip was sore from all the biting I had been doing the last few days. "How... how can I prove that I had no intent?"

He turned to me. "Just stay out of trouble from here on out," he said, his eyes focussed and solemn. "Forget this case, forget Marcus Flint and Victor Crenshaw. Let me handle it, and I'll tell Kingsley that, as Head Auror, I don't believe you knew what you were doing was wrong."

I nodded my head, knowing in my heart that there was no way I could do what he was asking. I crossed my arms and hugged myself tightly. What a bloody mess I had created.

The scene remained chaotic until Blaise gasped loudly. "Bloody hell! Grang – er – Weasley! I think I've figured out what we were missing!"

My heart started pounding as Hermione squealed delightedly and rushed over to Blaise's side. I watched as they animatedly discussed Blaise's discovery, feeling that this moment was a bit bittersweet. It was so wonderful that there was hope for Narcissa Malfoy after all. Despite any misgivings that I may have had over the woman, the fact was that she was not a bad person and did not deserve to be hurt. I was glad that there was hope for her yet.

But it was the niggling thought in the back of my mind that ruined this moment that should have been so happy.

If I failed – if I couldn't save him – then did this moment really matter?

By the same token as Draco's life being meaningless without those he loved, would the reverse apply to his mother? Would she be able to live her life with her son helplessly being held behind bars for a crime he didn't commit? Would it matter to her how desperately I tried to fix everything for her and her husband, to give them the peace that they had thirsted for since the War had ended? Or would they shun me, knowing that my misguided attempt at being a hero had instead ruined their son's life?

And if Draco never left his cell, why would it matter to me at all what the Malfoys thought of me?

I put on a fake smile, hugged Blaise tightly in congratulations for his fine work. Much to my surprise, he returned the gesture, pulling me tightly against him and whispering something in my ear that I didn't quite catch. I couldn't quite concentrate on anything at this point, so I nodded instead, assuming that he had given me words of encouragement. I waited for the opportunity to slip out of the house while no one was watching me.

I didn't have any clue what to do next, but I would be damned before I did nothing.

* * *

I didn't plan to steal his wallet, but it was the best thing I could think of under the circumstances, inexperienced as I was. I knew he would be able to help me, and I knew of no other way to ensure that he'd notice me, so as I walked past his table, I grabbed it. It was just sitting there, and taking it had been almost too easy. I was able to make sure he didn't catch me in the act, but I also didn't bother walking briskly away. I wanted to be able to follow him if need be, but that of course would be a last resort if things didn't go as planned. What I wanted was a way in.

And it worked like a charm.

It only took him a split second to realize that it was gone. He first looked around his booth – checking to make sure he hadn't dropped it accidentally or moved it without remembering. I bit my lip to stifle a giggle as I watched him fall to the floor on his hands and knees, actively searching for the worn leather item that I was holding in my hand at that very moment.

He then glanced towards the door and saw another young man, dressed sharply in a crisp black suit. The classy businessman gasped as the first man grabbed onto his tie.

"Did you see someone walk past my table?"

"What? Er, no, I just came back from..."

"Forget it!"

The first man tossed the second man aside before repeating the same line of questioning with a few other patrons, getting the same response from each subsequent person. I snorted at his frustration, realising that I was probably getting too much enjoyment out of this, but I just couldn't resist.

The barmaid tapped him on the shoulder. "'Scuse me, but ya can't leave wiffout payin'!" she said with her thick Cockney accent as she rolled her eyes at him. "Thadda be five galleons, six sickles."

"Miss, someone took my money," he said, frustrated. "I can't pay for my meal without my money!"

"No kiddin'!" she exclaimed sarcastically. "Well, ya know who ends up havin' to pay your bill then, don't ya? _I do."_

"I'm really sorry," he insisted. "I'll go to Gringotts and come right back, I swear."

"No need for that," I said, acting as though I was taking pity on the man because of his unfortunate situation. I reached in my pocket and pulled out six of the galleons I had already removed from his wallet and handed them to the barmaid. "You can keep the change, all right?"

Her face lit up in a smile that emphasised her crooked teeth as she pocketed the coins and walked away.

The man breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks for that," he said. "Someone seems to have gone off with my money."

"So I heard," I answered with a smile. I extended my hand. "I'm Ginny Potter."

"Victor Crenshaw."

I cocked my head to the side, pretending to be as flirtatious as I could be considering who I was supposedly flirting with. He wasn't _old_ – probably in his mid thirties, I guessed, based on his mother's age – but he had certainly aged beyond his years. His hair was black with several very noticeable greys and he wore a badly trimmed salt and pepper mustache and beard. He was a little too thin, and his sunken face made him look a bit unhealthy. His blue eyes and long, dark lashes made his eyes bulge from his sick-looking face too much, making him look almost insect-like.

"I'll pay you back those six Galleons," he said when I did not respond. "I'd never let a lady buy me a meal."

"Well, I'm not your typical lady," I said enigmatically. "I'm a bit of a feminist, I suppose. A woman can pay for a man's meal any time she so chooses." I internally rolled my eyes at my faux declaration, knowing well enough that I hadn't actually been the one to pay for his meal. "But you could buy me a drink if you want to." I batted my eyelashes for good measure.

After we went to the bank so that Victor could make a withdrawal, he led me to the Leaky Cauldron. It was not my first choice in pubs, but it beat going back to the bar where I had met Marcus and Daphne in my first day on the case. If nothing else, I was nowhere near Knockturn Alley and the man who tried to rape me. I knew well enough that this time Draco Malfoy could not come out of the woodwork to save my arse if I did get into another scrape, and no one else knew where I was. It was possible, even, that no one had even realised I was gone yet besides Blaise, who was otherwise occupied.

Victor sat across from me after going to retrieve our drinks. He didn't bother to ask me what I wanted, instead simply returning with a cocktail that was fruity and pink. Obviously he wasn't too bright. No feminist would ever be caught dead ordering such a drink. But seeing as how I was just putting on an act anyway, I smiled sweetly and began sipping on the liquified-sugar-with-just-a-tiny-pinch-of-alcohol that he had so generously paid for.

"So," he began, grinning indulgently at me, "what's it like to be Harry Potter's sister?"

I snorted into my glass. I had introduced myself as Ginny Potter – rather than Weasley – in the hopes that he'd assume I was still married. He had to have been even dumber than I thought, or perhaps he had lived under a rock for some time. Most people in the Wizarding world knew more about Harry Potter's life before even Harry himself knew it.

"Well, it was hard growing up with our Muggle aunt and uncle and sharing that little cupboard to sleep in," I said, "but I was so very proud of him when he killed ol' Voldy."

"Yes, yes," he responded, intrigued. "You shared a cupboard you say?"

"Oh, of course," I went on with mock sadness, despite the fact that it was mildly repulsive to act as though Harry were my brother when I had been married to him for a several years and had shared his bed for even longer than that. "We used to name the spiders who spun their webs in there. They were our only friends."

"What a sad childhood." He appeared to be completely sincere.

"Oh, it was, but enough about that! Saviour of the Wizarding World! He's an Auror now, and I get to live in the shadow of his success being his younger, sluttier sister. It's marvelous!"

"Sluttier?" Victor croaked.

I giggled, partly in an attempt to continue acting like a feminist who allows men to buy her fruity cocktails, but also because it was hilarious to me that Victor could think for one minute that anything I had told him was true. I needed to stop fooling around, though, and get onto the serious stuff. Despite everything, my number one responsibility was to prove Draco's innocence, not to act like a tart.

"So, tell me, Victor. What is it you do for a living?"

He grinned indulgently. "I work for an esteemed alchemist firm."

"How interesting! I'm a very big... erm, alchemist lover. Potions just... turn me on!" I cringed as I attempted to feed his ego. If anyone had ever heard the ridiculous things I was saying, I was pretty sure that I would die of humiliation.

Once again, though, Victor seemed to buy everything I was selling. "Well, then I daresay you might faint when you find out about the brilliant alchemists with whom I work! Barney Redlock, Alfred Wright, James Norwood... I even worked with the late Theodore Nott before his passing."

This was it! "Oh, Mr Nott was a legend when we were at Hogwarts. Professor Snape used to go batty over his brilliant potioneering."

"I bet. There was nothing like working for him. I learned so much. It was unreal!"

"What sorts of potions did you make with him?"

"Well, his specialty was curing infectious and genetic diseases," Victor said proudly. "Unwell individuals used to come to him, and he'd brew a potion specifically designed for them. He made thousands of Galleons on just the consultation alone!"

I bit my lip. "I wonder if all of his cures worked out," I said somewhat morbidly, knowing well enough that there was at least one that had not been successful.

"Every so often there would be an unhappy client," Victor went on, "but in the unlikely event that there was a negative outcome, Theo would simply create a new potion to reverse the first one and refund their money. He had a reputation for being quite an upstanding businessman _and_ a brilliant alchemist!"

"Right. But... but he's dead now."

"Yes. It was quite a tragedy, his passing."

"What if someone were to come to you with a complaint about one of his potions now that he is not around to create the cure to counteract it?"

"Well, of course he died with a complete set of satisfied clients, Miss Potter, so there's no need to fret over such mundane details, is there? Tell me again about how you were the sluttier sister..."

"Mr Crenshaw, I happen to know for a fact that there was _at least _one client who did not have a good experience with Mr Nott."

His face turned white as a ghost, and for a second I wasn't sure whether or not he had completely lost his ability to speak. He seemed afraid – petrified even – as though I had uttered Lord Voldemort's name during his reign of terror. "Nar – Narcissa," he uttered, his voice quivering as even his lips turned pale.

"That's right," I said, keeping my face as calm as I could, wondering briefly if my silly little act was still holding up after I had allowed that hint to drop.

He looked at me expectantly. "What do you know about her?"

I shrugged idly. "Pretty much everything, I think. She was ill, Mr Nott promised her health, and then rather than him curing her, she took a turn for the worse. Now she's a shell of a person and can barely remember who she is."

Victor looked horrified. "You – you didn't come across me by accident in that restaurant, did you?"

Damn. I guess that was the end of my game. "No. I knew who you were the minute I saw you – which, by the way, was nearly an hour before I nicked your wallet." I pulled the item from my bag and tossed it on the table. "Don't worry, though. I already took out what you owed me, with interest."

"Who are you?" he asked, a bit stunned and confused.

"Ginny Potter," I repeated. "Harry Potter's younger, sluttier, _ex-wife_, you nitwit..."

He appeared genuinely confused and perhaps even a little embarrassed. "If... if you really are related to Harry Potter, then why do you care about the Malfoys?"

"It's more complicated than that," I said honestly. "But you know that, don't you? You know that it wasn't just unfortunate luck that Theo died before he could cure her, right?" I paused, smirking at him in a way that I had obviously picked up from all the bloody Slytherins I had been associating with lately. "Maybe you even played a part in it."

My statement hung between us for a long time. I kept my composure despite the fact that I honestly felt like my heart might just stop beating altogether. Victor's face was somewhat even, like he didn't want to give anything away that I didn't already know, but the slight tremor in his hands made it quite obvious that he wasn't nearly as calm as he wanted me to think. His blue eyes were completely clear as he matched my glare as evenly as he could.

It was several moments later when he broke the silence. "What is it that you want from me, Ginny Potter?"

I bit the inside of my cheek as my brain considered that question. This man sitting across from me was completely on the hook – he knew that I knew he had been involved in some dirty dealings, but was I fully aware of all the details, or had I already laid all my cards on the table? Did I have evidence or was this all merely speculation? For both of us, every word that we spoke from this point on was everything.

It was then that it occurred to me what the answer to his question was. I didn't care about Victor Crenshaw as a person – whether or not he went to prison was completely arbitrary to me – but he was important to Draco's trial. I wanted Victor's testimony, obviously, but was that all? I needed him to not only be a witness to testify that Draco had not killed Theodore Nott, but I also wanted him as an ally. I wanted there to be one less person attached to Marcus Flint's puppet strings.

"I want your cooperation," I said evenly. "You're going to come to the Ministry with me and tell the Aurors everything that you know."

"And if I refuse?"

I shrugged one shoulder casually. "A friend of mine went to prison because of what you've done, and I don't take lightly to the people I care about being hurt." My eyelids closed halfway as I glared fearlessly into the face of the man across from me. "If you don't do what I ask, I will ruin your company and your image as a reputable businessman. I will make sure that you pay for the damage that you allowed to come upon the Malfoy family, and I will destroy you and everything that you care about. And," I continued, cocking my head to the side and smiling malevolently, "I will make sure that I take you down so hard and so far that you'll never recover from it."

Even I was surprised at my own vindictiveness.

He didn't hesitate. "I'll – I'll cooperate."

He paid for our drinks and we headed towards the exit shortly thereafter. After all my threats, conversation between us had become slightly stilted, to say the least. I was pleased with myself somewhat, having finally found the witness who could piece everything together, but I also felt a little sick to my stomach when I thought about what this job had done to me as a person. The Ginny Potter who had taken this job wanted Draco Malfoy to suffer for hurting her. The Ginny Potter walking away from the Leaky Cauldron that night had wanted blood. I could barely even tell who I was anymore, not from the things that I had said to that man.

I waited in the alley for a moment to allow Victor to catch up, but I kept my eye on him in case he decided to try and get away. I wasn't going to allow that to happen. I couldn't. If I did, that would be it. Marcus Flint would no doubt find out how much I knew, and there would be no Draco to protect me from him. I needed Victor Crenshaw in one piece, but I also needed that one piece to be in my pocket at all times.

It was then that I heard his footsteps approaching. I could hear the crunch of the Autumn leaves as he stepped past the door. I could feel the chill in the air, and I knew right away that something was off.

My eyes darted to where the sound had come from. Victor had, indeed, exited the pub, but he wasn't alone. I nearly felt my heart stop as I saw who had had been following behind me. My lungs no longer seemed to know how to breath. My legs turned to jelly beneath me. Every part of my body had gone completely numb.

"M – Marcus," I stammered, instinctively backing away from the crazed man with the deranged grin who was holding onto the neck of the man I had been having a drink with only moments before. Victor, I noticed with great surprise, seemed to be equally as frightened as me.

"Hullo, sweetheart," he said.

A split second later, I could heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. With his neck hanging limply against his chest, Victor Crenshaw fell lifelessly to the ground. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was dead.


	15. Chapter 15

Time was such a funny thing, I thought. So many things could happen, so many major events could occur over the grand scheme of our lives. In my life, for example, I had been born, possessed by Tom Riddle's diary, fought the Dark Lord alongside my family, got married, and got divorced. Those were my biggest moments – the ones that span across time. They are the major details in my life that, by themselves, don't tell too great of a story. Aside from meeting Tom Riddle, all of those things could apply to many people who had grown up around the time that I did. They didn't make me unique. They don't tell _my _life story.

It's the seconds that matter. The individual morsels of time that can stand alone. All it takes is one second for something to happen – something major, something minor, something insignificant. Whatever it is that occurs in that instant is what really tells our stories and defines us as individuals. But it never ceases to amaze me how quickly that one second can change a person.

And the instant that I was engulfed in right then felt like it was coming from my worst nightmare.

Only a second ago, I thought I'd had everything planned perfectly. I knew what to do to save the man I loved. I knew how to keep all the people I loved safe. I knew how to end this bloody stupid chaos that I had allowed myself to be enveloped in. But in a single, minute point in time, all of my plans were destroyed by the man who I knew had every intention of destroying me.

My back was against yet another brick building. It was a different time and place; we weren't in Knockturn Alley this time, but the faces were all the same. The situation hadn't changed. It was still Marcus, still the last person I would ever want to see while I was all alone. The Leaky Cauldron was swarming with people on the inside, but on the outside, in the small alley leading into the Muggle side of the pub, there was no one at all to save me. No one to hear me beg.

"It's been a while, Weasel," Flint spat, his crooked teeth more prominent as he smiled sadistically. He wanted to be alone with me – that much was quite obvious. I had been having a conversation with Victor Crenshaw for quite a while before Marcus had shown up and snapped the other man's neck. If he had wanted to put on a show, he'd have done so much earlier. "You look frightened, love." He continued to taunt me. "Everything all right?"

I held onto my bag tightly, praying to Merlin that I could get to my wand without him seeing me reach for it. This was twice now, I thought. Twice that I had been caught off guard without a weapon. Twice that I had been in exactly this position, helplessly pinned against a wall. But in my heart I felt like it wouldn't have mattered anyway. The one time I did have a weapon, Flint still got the best of me. The only thing I'd had going in my favour any of the times that we had met were the people in my life who could watch my back. And right then and there, I realised as my heart plummeted, I was entirely alone.

He took a few steps closer to me, his face twisting into an awful scowl. "Speak, Weasel," he spat. Literally.

My whole body was quivering, and the shaking only got worse with every inch nearer he got. But I kept my chin held high. The last thing I would do was show him that he had bested me if I could help it. I wouldn't go down without a fight, no matter how frightened I was or how certain I was that there was no way out of this for me.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice as even as I could manage.

He laughed cruelly in my face. "What do I want?" He paused, like he was pretending to think about the answer to that question. With one swift move, he pulled on the collar of my shirt and dragged me away from the wall, turning me so that my back was to him. He had one of my arms pinned behind my back, right between us. It was all that separated him from me. The vulnerability that I had felt before had increased to the point of desperation. "I want for you to not exist. If you had just stayed in your fucking hole in the ground where the other bloody rodents live, I'd never have had to do this."

"But I didn't do anything!" I exclaimed, panicking more and more now that I realised just how strong he really was. I couldn't move at all. "I never did anything to hurt you, Marcus, I swear it!"

"Oh, but you did,"he hissed as he tugged painfully on my arm, twisting it up my back. His lips were so close to my ear that I could feel his breath tickling the baby hairs at the back of my neck. "You've talked yourself up, girl. You've mentioned my name. And now I catch you threatening the mole I had working for me? I'd say you've got yourself an agenda, haven't you?" His free hand came up around my throat. "Why don't you tell me what it is that _you_ are trying to do?"

I gasped as his grip on my neck tightened. "I just – wanted – to help – Draco!" I took deep breaths as I struggled to keep my head up, both hoping and failing to pull my windpipe away from his crushing grip. "Please stop!"

"Not until you're dead."

Everything began happening so quickly. My vision was becoming cloudy. I couldn't tell if this was happening because I was about to black out or if adrenaline was taking me over. I began clawing and scratching at the arm at my neck with the hand that I was still able to move somewhat. I dug my nails into the flesh of his arm. At first I didn't think what I had done was working. He was still holding onto me so tightly, but then he yelped loudly and pushed me so hard that I crashed back into the brick wall. I had barely enough time to put my hands in front of me to protect my head from slamming against it.

"You _bitch," _he hissed, his fact contorting with rage as he began walking toward me again.

Frantically, I began digging for my wand inside my handbag. It somehow seemed like a bottomless pit. I couldn't find it, and I was running out of time. But my hand found something else. I pulled out a tiny little thing inside my bag that I had completely forgotten about.

It was the pepper spray that Hermione had given me.

She had said that it could save my life, that it could give me time to get away or fight back. That was exactly what I needed.

I waited for Marcus to take a few more steps towards me. He wasn't moving particularly quickly, undoubtedly underestimating me as an opponent. And rightfully so. Up until that point, I had never been able to do a single thing to hurt him or even counter his attack. But now I was ready with something I knew he'd never expect.

I had nothing to lose. Perhaps the stinging would be so bad that he would pass out. Maybe it wouldn't hurt him at all and he'd just get more pissed at me. Either way, it was all I had. My finger pressed against the red nozzle and I aimed it directly in his eyes.

As soon as the gas came into contact with his eyes, Marcus yelled loudly, his hands going up to shield himself, but to no avail. The stuff had done exactly what Hermione had promised, and I was so utterly grateful that I had finally bested him, if only for a second. I didn't stop until all of the spray was gone. I wasn't willing to take any chances, and if anyone deserved to be shot in the eye with some sort of stinging solution, it was definitely this man.

Once the trigger was empty, I knew I would only have a short time before he recovered. Pepper spray, after all, was designed to slow down an attacker, not permanently damage or injure him. I needed my wand. I reached back inside my bag and found it almost immediately.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" I shouted.

A sigh of relief escaped my throat as I watched Marcus' limbs snapped together like a board right before he fell to the ground with a loud thud. But that wasn't enough for me. It wasn't enough that Marcus was petrified. As I looked at him, completely still and helpless, I realised once more how much I had changed. It wasn't in Ginny Potter's nature to hurt a defenceless person. No Gryffindor would ever do something so dishonourableas to kick someone while they were down, just for the sake of vengeance.

But a Slytherin would.

I wondered, and not for the first time, if I was really a true Gryffindor or if the Sorting Hat had gotten it wrong when I was a child. Weasleys were Gryffindors, after all. Brave, courageous and strong. But I wasn't any of those things, and if I ever had been, I certainly wasn't anymore. That girl was gone. She had been replaced with someone who had been hurt far too many times and by too many dangerous men.

Tom Riddle had been the first. I was determined to make sure that Marcus Flint was the last.

My wand was still at the ready, aimed directly at Flint's heart. He had taunted me, ridiculed me, made me feel weak and helpless and worthless. Now it was my turn to hurt him, to show him what it was like to truly be powerless. Right at that moment, he was the epitome of weak.

Despite being in the full-body bind, I knew he could still feel pain. I weighed my options. I could do so many different things to cause him pain. I could hit him or scratch him. I could use the tickling charm to the point of torture. I could set fire to him. Or...

Though magic was amazingly beautiful and powerful, it could also be hurtful. Subconsciously, I realised how dangerous it was, especially in the hands of someone who wasn't completely stable. I knew I should just set my wand down and step away. I knew I should have taken a deep breath and called for help. I knew I should have let myself fall to the ground and cry, to allow my body to take over and gain some semblance of sanity.

But I didn't do any of those things.

I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

"_Crucio!"_ I shouted.

Marcus couldn't move around or yell out in pain, but I knew it had worked. I had never wanted to hurt someone so much in my life. I had never wanted to torture someone before. I had never wanted anyone dead – not even Tom Riddle, not even after he had tried to drain the life out of me when I was eleven. This curse, I could vaguely recall Harry telling me, would only work if the person casting it really, really wanted it to happen. And I did. I wanted him to suffer like no one had ever suffered before.

Didn't I?

I released the spell and dropped my wand arm to my side. I knew I shouldn't have done that. It was an Unforgivable for a reason, wasn't it? But there was no one there. There was no one there to see me cross the line. And if I could perform the Cruciatus Curse and inflict so much pain on a person so easily, there would be nothing to stop me from something worse. And in my state, I knew I couldn't stop myself. It would be much more humane, I justified, if I killed him rather than tortured. It would make me a better person.

My eyes drifted shut of their own volition. I took a deep breath and trained my wand at him again. This was it. I was finally going to take control.

"_Avada Kedav- _oomph!"

I was on my side. The wind had been knocked out of me by someone. It wasn't Marcus, I knew. He had been lying there helplessly just a moment ago. There was no way my spell had warn off yet. I sat up and immediately took in my surroundings. Someone had jumped me and prevented me from performing the Killing Curse, and the first thought that I had was that it was someone trying to protect Marcus from me – someone who was his ally.

But it wasn't.

Blaise was on the ground beside me, and Harry was standing over Marcus, his foot firmly on the petrified man's chest for good measure.

"What – in the hell – are you – doing?" Blaise panted. He had obviously been running before he had knocked me over.

My eyes narrowed. How dare he stop me! "I was doing what someone should have done a bloody long time ago!" I shouted, getting to my feet and putting my hands on my hips. "Now move, Harry, so I can finish what I started!"

Blaise was up in an instant. "_Expelliarmus!"_ he shouted as my wand flew from my hand and into his.

"What was that for?" I asked in irritation. How dare he tackle me to the ground and take my wand from me! Who did he think he was? "Give it back!"

"Not until you calm down, Ginny."

That time it was Harry who spoke. He was still standing over Marcus, but his eyes were completely trained on me, watching as the woman he had been married to for years had a nervous breakdown. His face was even and unnaturally still, but I could see through it. He was so full of concern that he looked like he might break.

But I didn't care.

"Why should I calm down?" I asked both men. "Do you know what he did to me? Do you have any idea what just happened?" I was growing more and more hysterical with everything that I said, which each question that I asked. I didn't want answers. I didn't want to be judged. I just wanted to inflict pain on the man who had tried on four occasions to kill me. "Give me my bloody wand!"

"No," Blaise said. "Tell us what happened."

I let out a feral scream of frustration. I thought my internal organs were all going to explode. I thought my entire head was going to burst. I thought the whole world was going to end. That's what it felt like to me to be questioned, to be stopped when I was so close to doing what needed to be done. Flint was a bad man. Would anyone have cared if he had died? Probably everyone would be happier, and certainly the world would be a much safer place. Why couldn't I be the one to make it that way?

But I took a breath and glared at the two men. "I got Victor Crenshaw to agree to testify," I said evenly. "And while I was talking to Victor, apparently _this _bastard was watching me. I barely got two feet from the building before he snapped Victor's neck and then came after me." I shook my head to stem the tears threatening to fall. "He was going to kill me!"

"You're okay now," Blasie said, his voice as soothing as I'd ever heard it before. "You've put the Body-Bind on him. He can't hurt you anymore, Ginny."

"Maybe not at this exact moment, Blaise! Maybe not right now, but he will try to again. He won't stop until he kills me!"

"I promise he'll never touch you again."

"How can you promise that? Huh? How?"

Harry's arms were wrapped around me in a second, my head cradled against his chest. Blaise was there, too. He wasn't holding me, but he was there. The comfort of these two men being close to me was enough to make me lose it. I fell limply in my ex-husband's arms, gripping onto him for dear life as he soothed me with small circles being rubbed against my back.

"I couldn't let you kill him," Harry said. "You'd never forgive yourself."

I cried. Again. Every tear that I had ever held back came streaming down my face. I felt like I was going to collapse. I was exhausted and frightened and relieved and numb all at the same time. I had come so close to killing a man in cold blood. I had almost done the unforgivable.

It seemed like hours later when I was finally able to speak again.

"How did you two find me?" I asked, turning to look at Blaise while still allowing Harry to hold me. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going."

Blaise snorted. "Did you think I was going to let you go off by yourself knowing damn well that you were bloody well looking for trouble?" He grinned. "You hugged me before you left. I put a tracking spell on you. I'm surprised you didn't hear it."

"Well then why did it take you so long to get here?"

"We had to conjure the map to help us find you," Harry said, pulling a rolled up piece of parchment from his pocket. "It took some time to do that. And then your mum Flooed us, all in a tizzy, saying that your hand on her clock had gone to 'Mortal Peril,' so we knew we had to hurry up." Harry looked thoughtful. "Of course, we'd have got here sooner if we hadn't had to console her for twenty minutes and explain that her panicking like that was actually making it worse..."

I laughed at that. That sounded just like her.

"Anyway, the map wasn't completely precise since we had to rush it, and we couldn't Apparate here since you're on the Muggle side. We were walking, and I was carrying an Extendable Ear," Harry continued. "I heard you cast the Cruciatus Curse, and Blaise took off running."

My whole body stilled at that, the reality of what I had nearly done finally sinking in. The seriousness of my actions was numbing. I would have gone to prison without so much as a trial.

"Thank you," I whispered, putting one arm around either man. "I owe you everything."

We were so lost in our touching little reunion that I could vaguely hear someone approaching. The sound of footsteps against the pavement resonated through the small alley that we were in. Once I heard it, I was certain that some Muggles had found us, that they would see the man lying, unmoving on the ground beside us and assume that we had done something to hurt him – which we had, but not without justification. It was self-defense, after all, but that didn't matter because whoever was coming had not been there to witness it.

Harry, Blaise, and I all looked up at the same time. The thin silhouette appeared against the wall. I pulled both of them close to me, fearing heavily what might happen next.

It was a woman who was approaching. Her silhouette was tall and slender. I could see her long hair blowing out around her in the cool Autumn wind. She was still at the end of the alley, standing there for what felt like an eternity. Her posture was cool and regal. I had the strangest feeling that she wasn't there by accident.

She stepped towards us, out of the shadows and into the darkened corner where we stood huddled together. It took me a few moments before I recognised who she was. Her hair was darker than I remembered, her skin sallow and sunken, but it was unmistakably her. I felt guilty as my heart plummeted into my stomach at the implication of what this would mean for me.

Her arms were crossed over her chest as she looked on at Marcus, then at Harry, Blaise and myself.

"I guess it's over then, isn't it?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

No one spoke. My throat was dry.

It was Blaise who was able to finally say what the three of us had been thinking.

"We all thought you were dead, Astoria."

* * *

**A/N:** One chapter to go! Please leave me a review :)


	16. Chapter 16

I fell into a sleep coma that I wished would have last for years. My whole body was exhausted, and my horrible emotional state didn't help anything at all. I wanted to hide in my bed for the next millennium, undisturbed and alone, but when I expressed this to Blaise and Harry, they laughed. They obviously thought I was kidding, although I was clearly not. Despite the fact that, for the most part, it was over, there was so much work left to be done, for me and for everyone, and just the thought of the ordeal that was about to ensue was enough for me to want to never wake up again. I was exhausted.

Draco's trial was set to happen almost immediately. I was worried, initially, when Blaise told me that because I figured it meant bad news for Draco, but Blaise told reassured me that was not necessarily the case. I thought that because the only witness who could testify that Marcus had conspired against Draco was dead that all hope was lost, despite the evidence that I had set aside to prove that Draco had no motive.

As it were, there was one other person who had witnessed Theo's murder, and she turned out to be as alive and kicking as any of us, having had spent the last few months under Flint's thumb and being kept away where no one could find her with threats of annihilating her family had she tried to run. But as badly as I felt for her and as much as I sympathised with the ordeal she had gone though, just the thought that Astoria was still alive gave me a funny twinge in the pit of my stomach. The fact that Astoria would be the one to testify and set Draco free was even more unsettling than I would have liked for it to be. I knew I was being petty and horrible, but I couldn't help the way I felt about it.

I was pleased to hear, however, that Marcus would not only be tried for the murder of Theodore Nott. He had also kidnapped Astoria, harassed Daphne, murdered Victor, and stalked and attempted to rape and murder me, and each one of those counts would be a separate indictment, which meant that even if he was not found guilty of all of them, it was very likely that he'd still go to Azkaban for a long time, if not the rest of his life.

Harry was the one who prepared me to go to trial. He said I would be a key witness and that my testimony would be crucial if we wanted to get Marcus Flint put away for good; I had not only been a victim of his, but I had also witnessed another of his crimes. Even if I didn't get to put a wand to his chest and kill him, I at least knew that I'd be getting some kind of justice. And besides, the Killing Curse would have been quick and almost painless, whereas life behind bars inside a padded cell would be a much more fitting punishment after all he had done. That was good enough for me. Harry had even said that the charges I should have faced for casting an Unforgivable would likely be dropped due to my extreme emotional state and I would probably be granted immunity so that I could testify without implicating myself in criminal activity.

I was also thrilled to find out that the potion Hermione and Blaise had worked on was having some very promising results. There was a lot of damage to repair when it came to Narcissa's health – some of it irreparable because of the amount of time she spent with the toxic potion coursing through her system – but from what they told me, her prognosis was good and she had already begun to heal. She'd had a lucid conversation with her husband for the first time in quite a while, according to Blaise. I was still nervous about being around Lucius Malfoy after I sent his heir to prison even though I had promised to do everything I could to keep him out, or else I would have liked to have visited them one more time.

Despite my protesting and my assurance that I was fine, Harry refused to let me out of his sight after the night with Marcus in the alley. I'm not sure if he thought I was really going to go off the deep end and go on some sort of a killing spree or if he just wanted to make sure that I was okay, but his constant surveillance was really unnecessary. All I wanted was to curl up on my sofa with a cuppa and a good book – something nonviolent with no romance whatsoever. Perhaps a good textbook would suffice. Herbology would be lovely.

Harry sat beside me through the next two weeks. The court appearances for Flint's trial and the backlash of Astoria being alive had yet to come, but I had to admit that I was nervous and unhappy about all of it. I was more scared to see Draco again than anything else. So scared, in fact, that I didn't even plan to attend his trial. I couldn't watch his little girlfriend's weeping testimony about how Draco had tried to come to her rescue. The thought itself made me sick. It must have been tearing Harry up inside knowing what he knew about my feelings and feeling how he felt for me. But he was a gentleman, and much to my relief, he never once made an attempt at a reconciliation between us. He obviously knew better than to think that my feelings would have magically changed, or at least he knew how inconsiderate it would be when my mind was so obviously elsewhere.

He handed me a mug of cocoa. It was topped with whipped cream that was piled nearly three inches high with marshmallows and three maraschino cherries on top. He knew enough about me and about women to know that time and lots of sugar was the only way to cure a broken heart.

I accepted the drink and smiled appreciatively at my friend. There was no sense in referring to him as simply just 'an ex' anymore. Calling him as such had held such a negative connotation, and I just didn't have any hard feelings about him anymore. He had been my ally and my confidante, and despite the awkwardness between us all the time, I knew that he was the best friend I could ever hope for.

"You don't have to stay here with me, you know," I told him for the seventy-fifth time in two weeks. "You must be bored silly sitting here all day."

Harry shrugged and took a seat beside me on the sofa. "Being around you can never be boring," he said.

I knew he was just being nice – he was so bored that he had spent a good hour and a half staring at his cuticles the day before – but I smiled at the compliment. It was the thought that counted, after all, and Harry was nothing if not thoughtful.

We spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other's company in relative silence. I knew it would help him to feel less uncomfortable if I would speak to him every once in awhile without prompting, but I just didn't know what to say. I felt so weird about him seeing me so low, so deranged, so un-_me_ that night in the alley that I wasn't sure how to be myself around him anymore. I wasn't even sure if the crazy lady who had tried to cast two Unforgivables in a matter of five minutes was who I had become or if I had just had a temporary lapse in sanity, but either way, it was hard to look someone who had seen me like that in the eye and make casual conversation.

"Malfoy's trial is tomorrow," he said, breaking the silence after a few more minutes. "Are you sure you don't want to go?"

I shook my head vehemently. "No, I don't think that would be wise," I said. "Draco isn't going to want to see me again. He – he hates me after what I did."

Harry shrugged. "Well, all right, if you're sure. Hermione said she'd like to come visit you, then, since I can't be here with you. I'll be there to present the evidence you've gathered in his defense, so I can grab your pay while I'm down at the Ministry, if you'd like."

"Pay?"

"Sure. For your capture of Malfoy."

I shook the cobwebs from my head. "I'm getting paid for that? I figured that would be a Ministry capture."

Harry gave me a half-smile. "No," he said. "It was a Ministry _apprehension_. We brought him in, but you did all of the work leading up to it, so you get the credit for it."

There was no stopping the smile that spread across my face. I had begun my short-lived career as a bounty hunter because I needed the money, but half way through this case, I realised that's not what I cared most about. I didn't care about putting every single person away who had a rap sheet. I didn't want every teenager who missed their court appearance after they performed magic outside of Hogwarts to be behind bars. I wanted justice for the people who deserved it. I wanted those who committed serious crimes to pay the price. I wanted for the people I loved to feel safe.

Briefly, I thought about my first capture. The man who attempted to set fire to a Muggle school while it was in session was nothing short of deplorable to me. He was a waste of space. He was a disgrace to all witches and wizards. Finding him and making sure he was locked away for good was the most satisfying moment I had ever experienced, and the rush of being the one to put him away was simply unparalleled. I wanted to do it over and over again.

It occurred to me then what I had failed to consider before. I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I didn't want to be a bounty hunter. I didn't want to have to fight and scrape to get what I wanted, but to actually do some good in the world. To make a difference and to help the people who were helpless.

I wanted to be an Auror.

I glanced up at Harry. "You know... you know what?" I said, a hint of a smile in my voice for the first time in weeks. "I think I will go to his trial."

He smiled back at me. I think he was happy to finally have some semblance of the old Ginny Potter back, even if it meant me seeing Draco again.

* * *

"So, in the case of Wizengamot v. Draco Malfoy, we find the defendant to be not guilty," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, his voice booming through the court room with the aid of the Sonorous charm. "Mr Malfoy, you are free to go with the Ministry's apology."

I smiled at the reaction spreading throughout the court room. Some people were simply outraged - _"He is a former Death Eater! What difference does it make if he didn't kill _this_ time?"_ - while others were delighted - _"I'm so happy he is not like his father." _But regardless of everyone's opinion, there had been very little deliberation with the Wizengamot and the Minister. After all of the witness testimony and the evidence presented, no one whose opinion mattered in determining his innocence had thought he was guilty.

I was very glad that he was not going to spend the rest of his life in prison for a crime he didn't commit. I was elated that his slate was being wiped clean and that he would be reinstated to his position in the Auror department. But the growing knot in the pit of my stomach when I watched him embrace Astoria in the midst of the courtroom's mayhem made me forget what it was I was so excited about. He was free, but I knew he'd never forgive me. I wondered if all that I had done for him had really been worth it, but then I was angry with myself for thinking such a selfish though**.**

Harry looked on with concern, watching the line of my eye to see what it was that I couldn't stop looking at. I could see in the way he immediately looked away how hurt he was. He was watching the woman he loved look on at the man she loved hug another woman who he may have had feelings for. It was nothing short of a tangled web, and both of us felt the pain that that web had inflicted upon us.

We took a walk to the Auror department to say hello to my brother and to pick up my pay. I smiled at Pansy and hugged her excitedly – she, too, was thrilled that I had managed to help clear Draco _and_ finally put a stop to the man who had terrorised her, as well. I had to admit that it was nice to see friendly faces rather than just the inside of my flat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Draco had come by as well. He was shaking hands with Kingsley as he sat at his desk. He would be resuming his work soon, I assumed. I would have been glad for him had it not been for that Greengrass twit standing next to him with her hands all over him like some doting sort of girlfriend. I _really _hoped she was not his girlfriend.

I wrapped my arms around Harry as I loudly asked if we could go home. I glanced over at Draco, who hadn't been paying me even the slightest bit of attention, although Astoria looked over at me and smiled, much to my dismay. Harry didn't appear to be amused by my performance, and the less-spiteful side of me was quite embarrassed once I really thought about what I was doing. I flushed and looked away, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone for the rest of the day.

We went back to my flat that night. Harry seemed to have forgotten that I was a wretched bitch when I wanted be, and he resumed the ever-exciting task of examining his hands as I continued to read my Herbology textbook from my third year.

There was such a deafening silence that I was almost sure that I could hear the hairs growing inside my ears. Harry had stopped pretending to be occupied and I had stopped pretending to read a book that I couldn't care less about.

"Why didn't you go talk to him?" he asked me.

I didn't have to ask who he was referring to. "I dunno," I said truthfully. "I wanted to."

"You should have."

I cocked my head to the side as I stared at him. "Why?"

His green eyes were so intense in that moment that I felt like they were actually going to pierce my skin. I could tell he had been thinking hard, probably wondering whether or not he should say what he wanted to say or just keep his mouth shut. He had obviously decided that he should say something, and a part of me was grateful about that.

"Because if you don't try to talk to him, then all you're doing is giving up."

I swallowed hard. "Harry, I'm –"

"Please," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "Don't apologize."

There was a pang in my chest. "Harry, I do love you, you know."

"Just... not in the way I want you to," he said, finishing my thought. "I know."

My heart broke as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He held me close and kissed the top of my head as we held on for dear life, knowing for certain that it was over between us. There was nothing left romantically. There was nothing left to try. There was only friendship, and after what we had been through, I wasn't even sure how long that would last. He had made it clear in the way he looked at me and spoke to me that being around me was nothing short of shattering. After all he had done for me, I had to be a true friend and let him have peace.

We held each other for hours, knowing that once we let go... it was over.

I couldn't see him again.

* * *

After that night, Harry stopped coming to my flat to sit with me, but that didn't mean I was alone by any stretch. Hermione and Rose would come over often, as would my mother and brothers. Pansy and Blaise even came by to visit several times, albeit separately – I really wished the two of them would get together; their flirting was sickening. Two more weeks had gone by, and I hadn't seen Harry or Draco since the day of the trial. I felt more alone than ever, even though I had all of the people I loved at my side. It didn't matter. On the inside, I was empty.

It was nearly ten o'clock the Sunday before Marcus' trial. Blaise was over, filling me in on all the details of Draco's reunion with Narcissa. Draco had had no idea that we had been attempting a cure for his mother, and when he went to visit and she had remembered who he was without prompting, he had actually fallen to his knees before her with tears in his eyes. I smiled sadly at Blaise's account of that day, wishing deep down that I could have been there by his side through it all. I knew Narcissa's health was the most important thing to Draco, and I was happy that I was able to do something helpful for him.

We spent the evening chatting pleasantly, almost like we had been friends for years. Never once did he try to push me into discussing anything unpleasant, and I was grateful for that. I thoroughly enjoyed his company, and I hoped that he and I would remain close even after it was decided that I was no longer a danger to myself. I knew I would miss his witty sarcasm and brutal honesty. Everyone needed someone like him in their life.

When it was time to go to bed, Blaise stood up and put on his jacket. "You sure you don't want me to stay with you? Sleep on your couch?"

I smiled halfheartedly. "No. Even Harry went home at night when it was his turn to babysit."

Blaise looked very serious. "You know, no one thinks of coming over to visit with you as a chore," he said. "You went through a lot. You almost lost it. Everyone is worried about you."

I bit my lip. "Don't take this the wrong way, but..."

"But why do I care?" he offered bemusedly. He took a few steps nearer and put his hands on my shoulders, gripping them with a reassuring pressure. "Maybe it's because I was there that night. Or maybe it's because Draco is my best friend and I think he would want to know if you weren't okay. But a big part of it, Weasley, is because I know you need someone who isn't going to just tell you what you want to hear if you ever have the balls to ask."

Of course I knew what he was talking about. I closed my eyes briefly before staring back up at him with cloudy eyes. "Has he mentioned me?" I asked.

Blaise smirked. "Mentioned... not quite. Insinuated, I'd say."

"What has he said?"

"Nothing about wanting to be with you romantically one way or the other," he answered honestly. "But I can tell he's grateful to you for helping his mother. She's the world to him, and if it weren't for you, no one would have ever thought to fight for her like that."

I smiled. Even if there was nothing else, at least there was that.

"He'll be at the trial tomorrow." He paused uncomfortably. "Astoria is testifying, obviously, and they've been spending some time together lately..."

"Please," I said, holding up my hand to stop him before he went any further with that statement. "I think it'll be better if I don't know."

My friend nodded at me before hugging me and giving me a quick peck on the cheek. Part of me wondered if he was still putting a tracking spell on me each time he saw me or gave me a hug goodbye, but at least I knew now that he wasn't spying on me for the sake of Draco. He genuinely cared about me, our friendship, and how I was managing to survive after all I had been through. I was grateful to have him in my life.

* * *

It was like deja vu when I stepped back into the courtroom after the Wizengamot had recessed to discuss the evidence and testimony that had been provided. The seats were jam-packed with the witches and wizards who were interested in seeing Marcus Flint's trial. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat in the centre of the room, looking on regally at the activity, taking in the commotion and trying not to let it have an effect on his decision. Though all members of the Wizengamot had a say in whether or not Flint was found guilty on any and all charges, it was, ultimately, the Minister's decision.

My testimony had gone over as smoothly as I could have hoped. I had been nervous and shook visibly as I took the stand, but I tried to let it show as little as possible. Despite the fact that I was one of the Wizengamot's star witnesses in this trial, I had so much on my mind that morning that I was finding it hard to concentrate. Feeling sick was simply just the tip of the iceberg, and seeing Marcus Flint's evil face was enough to make me fall out of my chair.

Like I expected, the prosecution asked me lots of questions about what Marcus had done and said to me and in front of me. I had to describe – in as much detail as I could – how he had attacked me on all three occasions, how he had threatened me in my apartment building, and how he had nearly choked me to death twice. I was thankful that, when it came to the first incident, I never had to explain, exactly, how I had gotten away. I was glad to not have to mention Draco. Telling the courtroom about how Marcus had killed a man right in front of me had been equally as sick-making.

The defense, however, tried to make it look like I had somehow provoked Marcus by slandering his name. The hook in their side of the story was that I had performed the Cruciatus Curse on him after I had placed him under the Full-Body Bind, stating that someone so heartless could not be trusted to give accurate and un-biased testimony. Even though I had been horrified about recounting those ugly moments in my life, I knew that they couldn't do anything to me because I had been granted immunity.

All in all, it wasn't a day I would ever have wanted to relive. And to add insult to injury, the stoic look on Draco's face every time I happened to glance his way – which was, granted, more often than I had any business looking at him – only added more weight to the pit of my stomach. I just wanted some indication that he was sorry for all that I had gone through in order to save him.

It was time for the ruling, and everyone in the courtroom rose to hear his decision.

"In the case of the Wizengamot v. Marcus Flint, we find ourselves split."

_Oh no._

"On the count of murder in the first degree of Theodore Nott, we find the defendant guilty."

I chanced a look at Draco who was seated beside Astoria. He held her hand tightly as he smiled slightly. I bit my lip, finding myself wishing more than ever that I could be with him, that he could be holding my hand instead of hers, but I pulled myself together for the next verdict to be revealed.

"On the count of murder in the second degree of Victor Crenshaw, we find the defendant guilty."

I let out another sigh at that, but my relief was short-lived.

"Due to lack of evidence and lack of witnesses for corroboration, on all other counts, we find the defendant not guilty."

So that was it. My fears had come true. Marcus was found not guilty of attempting to rape and murder me, of kidnapping Astoria, and of harassing Daphne. I didn't understand it, but in my heart I knew it wouldn't matter much. Two counts of murder were certainly still enough to put Marcus away for life, but I had so badly hoped to be the nail in his coffin. If only I had reported him while I still had the physical marks to prove it. If only I had allowed myself to have help.

I put on a front anyway, smiling to my mother who sat to my left and Blaise who sat to my right. In the end, I guess it didn't matter what crimes Marcus had been found guilty of, so long as I never had to be afraid of him again.

* * *

A few more weeks went by, and with each day, I found myself under less and less supervision. It was nice to be able to have some privacy, but at the same time, I found myself missing having someone around me all the time. It made me realise how jittery I had become, how apparent every noise in the environment had begun to make me. And maybe that was a good thing. If I was serious about becoming an Auror, I would need to be able to use my surroundings to my benefit. But at the same time, I knew that I wasn't just becoming more in tune with my senses. A part of me was still scared that Marcus was coming for me. I knew that he was behind bars, but my fear of him was not something that I seemed to be able to shake, and that was the scariest part of all of it.

A knock on my door pulled me from my reverie. It was probably today's sitter. I wondered briefly whose turn it was. My mother had come the night before, my father the night before that. Harry hadn't come since the night that we had said our goodbyes, and Blaise was assigned some new captures that he couldn't pass up. Rose had been sick, so Hermione and Ron had been home caring for theirdaughter. My brothers all had lives of their own. I felt like such a burden to have taken up so much of their time, but it wasn't through my own insistence that they had taken to watching over me. They had all wanted to take care of me, but I could tell that it was now starting to get to be a bit old for them.

I sighed and went to the door, removing the deadbolt that I had put in, and opened it without even looking.

I gasped when I saw who it was.

"Draco?"

He was leaning casually against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest lazily. The expression on his face was as stoic as ever. I didn't know who on Earth would have sent him to sit with me. Certainly not any of my brothers or Harry. It must have been Blaise, I thought; no one else would have purposely had me spend time alone with Draco.

"You going to let me in?" he asked, his voice sounding bored. "If not, I can always go next door. Your neighbors are rather lovely, if I recall correctly."

I bit my lip and stood aside, inviting him into my home. "Come in," I said.

And he did. He glanced around the room as though he'd never been there before, like he hadn't lived with me for an entire week, hadn't shared the bed with me for those few nights. Draco didn't appear to be uncomfortable, but his posture was stiff and off-putting, like he was warning me not to come too close. I supposed it had to have been because of his girlfriend, or perhaps he was still miffed at me for what I had done, but regardless, I knew that it couldn't have been his idea to take a turn on Ginny-Watch.

He took a seat on the sofa and I followed suit, sitting as far away from him as I could on the rather small piece of furniture. There really was only so far that I could go without sitting elsewhere, and I didn't want to do that. He would have thought that I was nervous about being around him – which, I was, but of course he didn't need to know. Neither of us said anything, only sat in silence, listening to the tick of the clock that sat on the wall in the kitchen.

In the back of my mind, I knew that there were so many things that I needed to say to him. All I had wanted since he had come home from prison was to talk to him, but there was never a good time to do that. He was so busy getting back into his daily routine, or he was spending time with Astoria, or he was just plain ignoring me. I couldn't stand it. It was eating me up inside knowing that he and I were on such bad terms.

I kept thinking of what I wanted to say. A thought would come to me, I'd open my mouth to say it, and then I'd think better of it and stop. A few minutes later I would repeat this, each time thinking to myself that what I was coming up with would just piss him off even more. He didn't want to hear an apology or an explanation. He wouldn't want me to justify to him what I did. As far as he was concerned, I had betrayed him in the worst possible way. Nothing I could say would fix this unless he was willing to forgive, and judging by how coldly he was acting, I didn't think that forgiveness was something I'd ever get from him.

I opened my mouth to speak again, thought better of it, and closed my mouth.

"Bloody hell, if you want to talk, just talk," he said, obviously fed up. I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to bite your bloody head off," he muttered under his breath.

"I..." I began, proud of myself for having increased the number of words I managed to say since we sat down by one hundred percent. But there again, I had no idea what to say next that wouldn't sound stupid. I sighed. "Hell, I guess I'll just say it."

"You've got me on the edge of my seat," he deadpanned. I'd never heard him sound more bored than he did right then.

I took a deep breath. "I think you're being an immature arse-face by prancing around with that little tart while I'm sitting around my flat all day, miserable, waiting for you to grow up and see that I did _not_ betray you." I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. "I did what I had to do to protect you and to save your mother, and I'm not sorry for sending you to prison because, even if you didn't kill Theo, you still committed a crime by skipping your trial, and I think that you bloody well needed to be knocked off that high horse you're always on. If I had it to do again, I'd do exactly the same thing, and if you consider saving your mother's life a betrayal because you weren't blood _in on it_, then maybe you have got bigger issues than I thought."

He snorted at that. "I've got issues? Says the girl who has to be under constant supervision."

My eyes narrowed at him, even though I knew he wasn't looking at me. "I had a plan, Draco," I said, my voice even. "I wasn't going to let anything happen you you."

It was then that his gaze finally shifted. He looked at me with his eyes as thin slits, his cheeks pink with irritation. He didn't look angry, exactly, but there was some mix of emotions in his grey eyes that I couldn't quite place. "Don't mistake the fact that your goal was ultimately achieved with the ridiculous notion that your plan was successful." He scoffed and refocussed his eyes elsewhere. "Your bloody carelessness is why Victor Crenshaw was killed. You almost got yourself killed. Again. If Blaise hadn't had the foresight to know that you screw up everything you touch, _you_ would be in prison right now."

"I'm the screw up?" I asked, my voice soft. "Last time I checked, I had lots of people in my life who love me, who come around to make sure that I'm okay. I haven't spent one day alone since that night because I have people who love me." I stood up and stepped directly in front of him. "You've got parents who love you because they have to, a best friend who gets drunk and kisses the girl you're shagging behind your back, and a tart who follows you around now because she is scared of her own shadow!" I panted, seething. "Tell me again who the fucked up one is in this picture."

He stood up slowly, his eyes not leaving mine for that long moment. He wasn't that much taller than me, but it still felt like Draco was towering over me. The Seeker's build that he had always had when we were kids had long since been replaced with that of an Auror – strong and lean and defined – and it had never intimidated me until just then.

"You are a sanctimonious little bitch," he hissed. "You think you know everything about me, but you don't. You always were just a bloody loose canon waiting to be fired so that you could finally let go of everything you've tried to control since you were a kid. That's why you were so easily manipulated by Tom Riddle. Not because you were a child, but because there has always been darkness in you."

"I'm not the one with the Dark Mark," I said defiantly, immediately regretting it.

A low growl escaped his throat as he put his hands to my shoulders, pushing me away from him hard. I stumbled backwards until my back hit the far wall, my chest heaving from anticipation. I honestly hadn't a clue what he was going to do or say, but for the first time in my life, I was frightened of him.

"How _dare_ you throw that in my face," he said, his voice low and threatening. "How _dare_ you act like you're superior to me in any way when it has _always_ been you who comes chasing after me. _You_ who wanted in my bed. _You_ who thought you'd break when I didn't come around again after I fucked you. Don't you _ever_ try to make _me_ feel weak."

I gasped as he inched closer to me. His face was so close to mine. I could almost feel him. I could almost taste him. My eyes were begging him to punish me for how I'd spoken to him, to take it out on me, to show some sort of emotion. I wanted him to let me know that I could still rile him up and make him crazy like I could when we were in school together, but I also wanted him to know that, no matter what we did or said to one another, I'd always crave him.

"_Say something," _he hissed, his eyes narrowed.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest. "Why are you here?" I asked. "Why did you even come here if you were still so angry with me?"

There was a momentary flash in his expression, and for a split second, he looked away from me. Had I not been so close to him, I probably would not have even noticed. "Because I needed to see you."

I felt a pang in my chest. "Why?"

"Because I needed to make sure you were all right."

My head cocked to the side. "_Why?_"

He growled again, but this time it was different. He wasn't angry or furious. He was frustrated. Like there was something he wanted to say but didn't know how. I watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he took another step closer to me, still without touching. I didn't understand how it was possible. I couldn't understand how he wasn't pressed against me completely. He was just so close.

Draco's eyes closed for a second, almost as though he were in some kind of emotional pain that he couldn't express. And he likely couldn't. If it made him feel and sound weak, then it wouldn't be said. There was nothing he hated less than not being in control, and expression of emotion was the epitome of weakness in his mind.

But when his eyes opened, in a flash, his arms were on either side of me and his forehead was pressed against mine. His body was the cage that kept me in place, pinning against the wall. I gasped as his mouth came crashing down on mine in a clash of tongues and lips and teeth. There was no control in the kiss. There was nothing calm or rational or contrived. There was just emotion, feeling, desire, and everything else Draco had ever fought against.

One of his hands wandered to my head, tangling in my red waves, using the pull of it to tilt my head back as the other hand went to my waist, pulling hips towards his. I could feel him, his desire, his want, his need, and I thought I might explode from the sensation of being so near him again. This was _it_. This was the Draco Malfoy that I had always craved, always wished for. The one who would lose control, the one who could show me his desire for him, even if he couldn't say the words aloud. It didn't matter. The way he touched me, the way his fingertips dug into my skin and tugged at my hair were enough. He was lighting me on fire.

It didn't take long for him to lift me up, pressing me against the wall. It all felt so familiar, like deja vu. We had done this before. We had shagged against this very same wall, but it was different this time. This time, neither of us had any secrets left to hide, any feelings still kept to ourselves. Everything I felt, I was pouring into our kiss, clinging onto him for dear life.

He balanced me on his hips for a split second as he pulled his mouth away from mine. He was panting from the exertion, and his eyes were glossy with desire. "I can't – I can't promise you anything, Ginny," he said, circling his hips so that the obvious bulge below his waist would press against me in just the right spot. "I can't tell you that I'll be with you forever. I can't even tell you how I feel."

I bit my lip, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as he continued to move against me. "I don't need you to promise," I said, gasping as his thrust hit my sweet spot. "I just need you not to pretend."

The smirk on his face told me that we were done talking, and I complied without question or complaint. It was never like us to use words to express ourselves to each other. It was all in our passionate kisses, our fevered touches, our desperate glances.

And as he removed every stitch of clothing from my body and his, I knew for sure that neither of us could pretend anymore.

THE END.

* * *

**A/N:** THANK YOU for all of the support that I've gotten from everyone on this story. It took me longer than I expected to finish it, but I hope it was still worth it. It was, without a doubt, the most in-depth story I have ever written, and I hope that there were no questions left unanswered by the end. If there are any, don't hesitate to ask!

Also, there will be one more bonus chapter uploaded due to the popular request of reading something from Draco's point of view. It will not be an epilogue, as there is no more of the story to tell, but it will give some insight into what he had been thinking throughout the story. Hope you'll stay tuned for that, and I hope you've enjoyed this story! :D


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